


A prostitute walks into a Mobster’s mansion… What could go wrong?

by Fragile_Porcelain



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Bad Parenting, Bad guy Stakar Ogord, Beta Edited, Blood, Bottom Peter Quill, Bottom Yondu Udonta, Caring Yondu, Crime boss Yondu Udonta, Crying Peter Quill, Dom/sub Undertones, Eating, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Forced Prostitution, Human Yondu, Hurt/Comfort (later chapters), Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Implied/Referenced Violence, M/M, Not nice Ego Quill, Prostitute Gamora, Prostitute Nebula, Prostitute Peter Quill, Protective Yondu Udonta, Starving Peter Quill, Sugar Daddy, Top Peter Quill, Top Yondu Undonta, criminal activity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-10-29 21:37:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10862589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fragile_Porcelain/pseuds/Fragile_Porcelain
Summary: Running a criminal empire was hard. Yondu Udonta knows first hand the struggles of keeping the Ravager Clan alive and thriving. Sometimes things get to him (such as a potential Underling uprising or a new Clan moving in on his territory) and even he needs to decompress. But when he walked into the room, expecting nothing more than a quick stress reliever, he is startled by the unhealthy skinny man waiting for him. His need to protect the other takes over, drowning out his brain and waking his cold heart. Maybe his men were right... maybe he was going soft. And it was all Starlord's fault.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I want to acknowledge the efforts of my amazing editing team. Solair and moony143 you are both fantastic! I really appreciate your painstaking work in helping me clean up this work. You were both so diligent in getting this done so quickly. Thank you both so much!

Yondu Udonta pinched the bridge of his nose. When he had taken power, he hadn’t really thought that there would be so much paperwork. He hadn’t thought about all the background components that went into running a successful criminal empire, but he knew now. It had been almost thirty years, and he was so damn tired of paperwork.

 

 

He returned his glasses to his face; he didn't always wear them, but the older he got, the more common it was for him to rely on them. Especially after fourteen hours of going through papers, and signing documents.

 

 

A knock on the door caught his attention, and he paused

 

“What?” he bellowed, his attention happily turning from the fine print. When Kraglin walked through the door, Yondu tensed.

 

Kraglin was his second in command. Like Yondu, he had risen from the bottom, from nothing more than a lowly dealer. They had both worked hard to prove themselves. Yondu had seen the man’s potential, back when he was just a boy and hadn’t ever disappointed. The man was over ten years his junior, but was one of the few people Yondu trusted with his life. Still, his presence meant that something was wrong, that there was something Kraglin couldn’t handle on his own, and that was never a good sign

 

Yondu watched as the man entered the room, closing the door behind him. Normally, Kraglin would sit, join him for a drink, and they would discuss business. Now, the taller man lingered around the office, unable to meet his eye.

 

“What's goin’ on, Kraglin?” Yondu ordered.

 

“There's been some rumors, Captain. Some of the men…” Kraglin murmured.

 

“What’re they sayin’?” Yondu stood hastily from his desk, sending the chair crashing to the ground.

 

“They say you’re stressed, an’ that it's wearing on ya… Rumor has it, some of the lower factions been thinkin’ ‘bout an uprising…”

 

“Who?” Yondu ordered sharply.

 

“Tazer.”

 

“I want you to call a level Alpha priority meeting. Bring me Tazer.”

 

Kraglin’s eyes widened. Level Alpha was emergency status. “Yes, Sir.” He was quickly out the door, phone to his ear.

 

As soon as the other man was out of the room, Yondu’s shoulders slumped. The others weren't wrong. Yondu was stressed. If he wasn't doing paperwork, he was dealing with problems, or bribing cops, or buying mayors, or managing one of the businesses that kept everything afloat. Something always came up. He only slept for about four hours a night, insomnia and stress keeping him from finding peace.

 

He couldn’t show weakness, though, couldn't let the others know. If he ever let his weariness show, he could lose everything. Reaching into his desk drawer, he pulled out the gold trimmed 9MM. He released the clip, noting that it was fully loaded. Slipping the weapon into the holster at his hip, he paused to take several deep breaths. This was his empire, his legacy, and he had worked too damn hard to lose it without a fight.

 

The low murmur of conversation fell away as Yondu entered the room, Kraglin close behind him. He was pleased to note that even at almost midnight, all fifteen of the men had arrived quickly and without protest. There was one representative from each of the fifteen factions sitting around the large oval table. They understood the gravity of an Alpha priority summons.

 

 

Everyone waited patiently for their leader to speak, tension thick as he kept them in suspense. For a full agonizing five minutes, the room remained silent. Secretly, Yondu was sizing up his opponents; but to everyone else, he looked like nothing more than a tired old man, sitting there in front of them and possibly even having a stroke.

 

 

Kraglin grew nervous from where he stood beside his captain’s chair.  He was just leaning over to speak with the older man when Yondu’s raspy voice filled the room.

 

“Now, I've been hearing some disturbing rumors lately; rumors that someone doesn’t think I can do my job. Rumors that lots of people here think I’m losing my touch. Is this true?”

 

A quiet murmur flitted through  the room but fell immediately silent as Yondu slammed his fist on the table and rose threateningly to his feet

 

“Is this true?!” His voice boomed through the room, thick and deep with anger, and no one dared to speak.

 

Yondu took several deep breaths. He straightened his tie and flattened his hair. His lack of sleep was causing his short temper to flare. He needed to be smart about this.

 

“I am a reasonable man. If you have concerns, we have come together to voice them. So, I’m asking you now: Does anyone have a problem with the way I’m running this empire?”

 

No one spoke, and Yondu turned his attention to the man he knew was the ringleader in this. “Tazer? What about you?”

 

Everyone's eyes fell to the man on the right side of the table. The large man went stiff.

 

“Rumor has it, you think I'm getting too old? My stress causin’ me to be ‘compromised’? Do you think you can do better than me? Think you can replace me? Do you think that I don’t know every fucking thing that is going on in my own organization?”

 

So, okay, maybe he couldn’t control his temper as well as he’d thought. As his furious words echoed throughout the room, he rose to his feet once more, glare trained on the still seated Tazer. He had to give him credit; Tazer’s hesitation lasted only a second before he broke, glaring back at Yondu like he had every right to question his boss.

 

“I think you're weak. You're an old man, past his prime. You think you have control, but you don’t. Been sittin’ on your high horse too long, don't know what it’s like bein’ the little man. You look down on us, order us about, but you don’t know. You're nothing but a has-been.”

 

As the words finished spilling from his mouth, settling in the dead silent room, no one dared speak. No one dared agree, nor disagree, waiting with bated breath for the resolution of this sudden confrontation.

 

For a second, Yondu considered the words. He had been the boss going on thirty years, was one of the longest running Ravager Captains to date. Still, even though he had reached the point of being in command longer than he had been an Underling, he remembered the  pain, the anguish that was his life before taking control.

 

It was quite literally scarred into his skin, reminding him every damn day when he looked in the mirror when he ran a hand over the rough peppering of long-healed bullet holes and knife wounds. He rubbed his finger along a long jagged scar across his forearm, and he remembered; those memories quickly morphed into rage.

 

 

Letting his anger guide him, allowing the darkness inside of him that had been eating away at him to take control. Yondu pulled his gun from its holster. There was no thought. He didn’t hesitate as he aimed and pulled the trigger. His temper was legendary, but he hadn't gotten his own hands dirty in years, usually relying on one of the underlings to do the dirty work for him.

 

As his shot echoed in through the room, everyone jumped. For him to pull the trigger sent a crystal clear message: Tazer had been dead wrong. The captain was still strong and ruthless as ever. To challenge him was a fatal mistake.

 

No one spoke as Yondu holstered his gun, returned to his seat, and straightened his tie. He smoothed down the thin hair on the side of his head, a habit he had from back when he had a thick had full of hair. No one spoke or questioned his actions, waiting in silent anticipation for what their captain was going to do next

 

“I am not weak. You are not weak,” he started, looking each man around the table in the eye. “Tazer, he was weak. The minute you go against The Code, you become weak. To forsake your brethren is an act of betrayal. To question your captain is the ultimate act of betrayal. The only way we survive as Ravagers is through one another. Loyalty. Honor. Family.”

 

"Loyalty. Honor. Family."

 

The echo of his words rippling around the men at the table was satisfying, letting him know that his message had been heard and firmly understood. It was part of the code that they lived by, and he was pleased to note that they had been put back in their place, a reminder of the consequences if they failed him again.

 

Yondu hesitated for only a moment before waving everyone from their seats. They were quick to scatter; fear hastened their movements. They avoided looking at the blood on the wall, at the crimson oozing from their ex-companion's head. A couple of them had been splatter by spray when the shot hit home, but no one was phased; blood was nothing new in their line of work.

 

Yondu waited until everyone but Kraglin had left the room before he spoke.

 

“Dispose of the body. Get this place cleaned up.” He ordered, but Kraglin was already making the proper calls.

 

Yondu hesitated in the doorway, waiting for Kraglin to get off the phone. When his first had finished his call, he looked to his captain expectantly, and Yondu sighed. “I need… a stress reliever. Someone… rough. Unbreakable.”

 

Kraglin nodded his understanding, the phone already dialing.

 

Yondu waited until the large doors of the Black SUV closed before he released a shaky breath.

 

<><><><><><><><><>

 

The air was cold.

 

Although it was already April, winter still had a firm grip. The temperature dropped low in the night and early mornings. It was after midnight, the only light from the yellowed street light overhead. Peter blew warm air into his hands, but it did little to help. The light clothes he wore were designed to show off his physique, not provide warmth.

 

Normally, he would huddle in on himself, trying to keep in some warmth. but he was still short his nightly quota. He blamed the weather. If it had been summer, he would have made his money already and been home wrapped in a warm blanket, sleeping.

 

But he couldn’t go home, not without the money.

 

Peter struggled to remember a time before this was his life. Maybe before his mother had died but that was over ten years ago. He had been a child, a little blissfully ignorant thing left in the care of his father. While Ego hadn't always been a bad man, things changed after the death of his beloved wife.

 

Peter had always blamed the alcohol. Ego was violent when he drank, unable to stand the eyes of the little boy looking up at him; eyes that looked so much like his mother's.

 

Even at such an early age, Peter understood what was going to happen and wasn't surprised when his father lost his job. He wasn't surprised, either, when Ego forced him to leave school, to stay home, and take care of him.

 

Truthfully, he wasn't even really surprised the first time his father sold him. He remembered the feeling, the pain, and the tears he'd been unable to hold in as the man had thrust into him. There hadn’t been enough lube, and the man had been too eager. Itf Peter concentrated hard enough, he could still feel the hands that had held him down.

 

For years now, that had been Peter’s life. He had gotten used to it, eventually. Now, as he stood on the corner, he straightened as the blue car pulled to a stop at the curb. A small flicker of hope rose in his stomach, thinking this would be his last client for the night. Then he could go home, where it may not be what a normal person considered warm, but the temperature was at least slightly higher.

 

He frowned, sparing a thought to hope that Ego had remembered to pay the heating company, though he somehow doubted it.

 

His hopes for some work were dashed as the back door opened and Nebula quickly exited. She had a smile on her face, her red hair askew. Her high heels clacked as she walked from the curb, waving as the car pulled away. Peter watched her, unamused.

 

“How did it go?” Peter asked.

 

“If he ever touches me again, I'm going to rip his face off,” Nebula grit out from between clenched teeth, her smile still on her face. She waited for the car to go around the corner before she let it disappear, and Peter smirked.

 

Nebula and Gamora were the closest things Peter had to friends. They had helped him adjust to his new life. Both were a couple years older than he and had more experience in their line of work. They helped guide him, given him tips and tricks, and helped him set his prices. It was a hard life, but they tried to stick together.

 

“I reached my quota, thank God. I'm going inside before I freeze to death. Don’t stay out much longer, kid. Your lips are turning blue.” Nebula brushed her hands along his stubbled cheek, and Peter drank up the warmth of the connection. It didn’t matter that her skin was as cold as his. The touches from someone who had no malicious intent were few and far between in Peter’s world.

 

“Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow.” Peter gave her a light smile.

 

As she walked away, Peter returned to his corner wall. He tried not the shiver, hoping the end of his night would arrive soon. Luckily for him, he only had to wait ten more minutes.

 

The street was mostly dead. Only Peter and three others were willing to brave the cold. So, when the large black SUV stopped on the corner, Peter hurried to the window.

 

“What can I do for you?” Peter smiled, dashingly, turning up the charm as much as he could while fighting off his shivers.

 

“How much?” the man asked without preamble.

 

“Sixty bucks for a hand, and eighty for my mouth. After that, it's a hundred bucks an hour.” Peter explained quickly. He was a little cheaper than the others in his line of work. His prices had been higher before he'd hit puberty and shot up to over six foot tall. It hadn't taken him long after that to realize that no one would be willing to pay normal prices for such a masculine fuck toy.

 

"Restrictions?" The man asked. Peter raised an eyebrow. The man had obviously done this before.

 

“I don’t do blood or piss or other body fluids or functions. Bondage rules and safewords are required to be pre-established before any scenes. Condoms have to be worn by either party.” Peter quickly went over his rules, knowing from experience that if the guy didn’t like it, then he could move on quickly.

 

"What about physical stuff? Like slappin' or spankin'?" The man asked. Peter raised an eyebrow. So, it was going to be one of those nights.

 

"Just don't leave any marks." Peter had once hated the idea of physical violence. He got enough of that from Ego, honestly, but he had quickly established that it made him more money. It had taken time, but he trained himself to take it without excessive tears. Unless the client wanted to see him cry, which happened occasionally. "It'll cost extra if you do." Peter winked playfully.

 

“Get in,” the man ordered, opening the door. Peter hastily climbed in, sighing in relief as he was greeted by the warmth of the heater. The man in the car quickly motioned the driver away.

 

"Here's the deal: You will get five hundred dollars for your services. I’ll give you half now and half later. You do not speak of where you're going,and  you do not repeat anything you hear or do. Understood?” Peter swallowed but nodded.

 

The dark-haired man passed him three bills, and Peter quickly folded them, before tucking them away in his tight pocket.

 

 Kraglin smirked to himself. The man across from him, large, masculine and confident, just what Yondu needed.


	2. Chapter 2

The car ride lasted a solid 30 minutes, and Peter couldn't even imagine what it would have been like if they had to deal with traffic. He guessed it would probably have been over an hour at the very least.

 

 Not that he cared. He was getting paid to ride in a comfortable, heated car, after all. He basked in the all-too-rare comfort of temperature controls and plush leather. Ten minutes into the ride, the man had turned on the heated seats, and Peter gratefully drank up the warmth. To repay him, Peter had tried winding his hand along the man's thigh but barely made it halfway up the inseam before his hand had been slapped away. He hadn't tried anything else after that, had instead sat in mildly confused silence for the rest of the ride.

 

Eventually, the car rolled to a stop outside a high iron gate. Peter shot the man a confused look, but he wasn't paying any attention to his guest. His eyes were on his phone, demeanor unfazed. They passed through the gate with nothing more than a curt nod from the armed guards.

 

It was another six minutes before the vehicle made it all the way down the curved stone driveway and pulled to a stop outside of a massive four-story mansion. Peter couldn't help the look of awe as the door was held open for him, and he gazed at the large pillars, the creeping vines, the gleaming floor-to-ceiling windows.

 

"What is this place?" he asked, voice laced with confusion and reverence.

 

The man didn't even look up from the phone. "Don't worry about it," he said, heading to the massive front doors.

 

Peter hesitated a split second before he followed, the man's steps so quick that he had to run up the front steps to fall in line. The front doors opened into a grand entryway with an enormous chandelier hanging from the ceiling, its light casting sparkling reflections along the ornate decor. Peter felt inadequate standing under its grandeur, dressed in his too-tight jeans and tattered sneakers. As the man began his trek up one of the two huge staircases, Peter hesitated under the weight of fear; telling him to run.

 

"This way," the dark-haired man ordered. He was already halfway up the right stairway, but he looked up from his phone when he noticed Peter wasn't following.

 

Again, Peter hesitated but eventually managed to force his feet to move. Once he got going, it wasn’t long before he had caught up with the man, who eyed Peter for a second before continuing with Peter hot on his heels.

 

The man opened a door into a sitting room. "You'll be in here." The room was larger than Peter's whole apartment, and he resisted the urge to let out an impressed whistle.

 

"Woah!" he whispered, gazing in awe at the room. The ceiling was tall, looming so high above that Peter could hardly make out the likely intricate mural painted on it. One of the walls was taken up with massive curtain-covered windows, and another a TV which took up nearly the whole thing; just one giant screen from top to bottom, and Peter was willing to bet that just that cost more than everything he owned.

 

"Bedroom's in there. There's a bathroom if you need to freshen up." The man pointed to the left side of the room, and an ajar door. "My employer will be in shortly. " Peter raised an eyebrow. He had figured his night would be spent with the tall, scrawny man who had picked him up. Apparently not, though, as the man headed for the exit.

 

He hesitated in the entryway, looking back at Peter. "What's your name?"

 

 

"Starlord."

 

"Starlord?" He questioned, and it was his turn to arch a questioning eyebrow. Peter crossed his arms over his chest, jutting out his chin in determination.

 

The man shrugged and snorted, but ultimately let it pass. "Alright. Starlord it is. Just wait here. Do not leave this room…” He paused like he was considering his next words. “And just… don't break anything, alright?"

 

 

The man closed the door behind him, and Peter sighed. Well, at least this was better than some seedy motel, right? Still, something uneasy was settled in the pit of his stomach; and as he gazed around the massive ornate room, he realized he was in way over his head.

 

<><><><><><><><>

Kraglin didn't wait for his captain to tell him it was okay to enter. He knocked, two sharp raps on the wood to announce himself, and then pushed his way inside. The sooner Yondu relieved some stress, the less angry he would be and the sooner things would get back to normal. The Captain was sitting behind his desk, his glasses resting low on his nose. He looked over the rims at Kraglin, an unamused frown on his lips.

 

"He's waitin' in the guest room for ya," Kraglin said, short and to the point.

 

Yondu raised one eyebrow, pleased with his first’s expediency in the task. “Limits?”

 

“No blood or other body fluids. Safewords required to be pre-established before scenes. Condoms gotta be worn by either party. There’s a fresh box in the nightstand with an unopened bottle of lube. He said yes to the physical stuff, just no marks.”

 

"He gotta name?"

 

Kraglin didn't understand Yondu's interest in names. He always wanted to know their names before going in, but what was the point, really, when in a few hours he’d never see them again?

 

"Starlord," he replied anyway.

 

"Starlord?" Yondu questioned. He had removed his glasses and was chewing on the end of the tip.

 

"That's what he says. He's paid for until 6:00 AM."

 

 

Yondu hummed, contemplating.

 

"You're dismissed."

 

 

Kraglin quickly saluted his Captain with two taps to his chest before turning to leave.

 

 

"Kraglin," Yondu quickly called, catching the man's attention as he exited. "Thank you.” Yondu’s normal grimace cracked into a half smile, and  Kraglin returned it.

 

"Goodnight, Sir," Kraglin said, closing the door behind him with a soft snick.

<><><><><> 

Peter took his time to wander the rooms, making his way into the bedroom to marvel at the size of the bed. It had to be the biggest bed he'd ever seen, and he grinned at the idea that his feet wouldn't hang over the edge. They'd been doing that since he was barely fifteen, not only at home but most hotels as well. Eventually, he'd learned that he wouldn't wake up with freezing, numb feet if he slept in a fetal position . Even if it was only for a few hours, he was truly going to relish sleeping in a bed his size. He ran a hand along the silk sheet, unable to contain the soft sound of joy that escaped his chest.

 

He wandered into the bathroom, next, wondering what other luxuries the suite had in store for him. The large tub in the corner could easily hold three people, and the shower beside it had jets all the way around. A large window took up most of one wall and looked over the grounds. He was positive that it was a one-way mirror, where he could look out, but no one could look in. The thought sent a spark of arousal through him as he imagined being fucked in front of it for everyone to see. With a sigh, he shook the idea off and returned to the bedroom to sit on the bed and wait.

 

Peter occupied himself by throwing a paperweight he had found on the nightstand into the air. It was better than just sitting there, at any rate, even if it was a bit boring. Hugged in the embrace of the silk sheets, he was so close to sleep when a noise from the sitting area caught his attention. He scrambled to replace the weight on the table and straighten the bed, flinging himself to his feet and leaning against to bedpost in an effort to look casual He wasn’t sure that he was portraying that at all, honestly, but it was better than the far-too-comfortable position he’d been in before. 

 

Yondu had finished two more reports before the tension eased in his shoulders. He didn't do this very often. Most of the time, he relieved stress on his own, but sometimes his hand did little more than rile him up further. When it reached that point, he needed another person; someone to touch, someone he could taste, someone he could dig his fingers into and ground himself in the here and now. He had never thought about 'settling down'. There were other priorities, other things to worry about. Relationships were a liability, a vulnerability which he simply couldn't afford.

 

Sex, the rough carnal act of burying himself in another person until he forgot his worldly problems; he could do that.

 

Most times he preferred the touch of a woman, something soft to dominate. Kraglin had chosen well this time in providing him with a male. Yondu needed something different this time, something less fragile, something he had to work harder for.

 

It was almost 3:00 AM when he finally opened the door to the guest room, loosening his tie as he slipped in

 

The sitting room was empty, for which he was grateful. Sometimes he preferred to wine and dine before moving to the bedroom, but Kraglin must have foreseen his mood and instructed the man otherwise. Yondu was glad for it. He wasn't in the mood to entertain. There were other things on his mind.

 

 

The bedroom door was open, and Yondu paused in the doorway to lean against the entryway and examine the man waiting for him.

 

The kid was younger than Yondu had expected; maybe twenty at the oldest. While he was largely built, standing a full head taller than Yondu, he looked half-starved. Yondu could see his ribs underneath his two-sizes-too-small t-shirt, and his hip bone jutted out from his skin-tight jeans.

 

The boy could have been absolutely breathtaking if he added about fifty pounds, with his shaggy auburn hair which curled lightly at the top. His attempt at a beard was patchy, as if he wasn't quite old enough for it to grow in properly, a fact which Yondu also found oddly alluring.

 

He was leaning against the bedpost, thumbs hooked in his belt loops in an obvious attempt to look laid-back, and Yondu smirked. The boy’s emerald eyes were striking when he finally looked up to Yondu.

 

The man in the doorway certainly wasn't what Peter had been expecting. He was older, in his mid-fifties at least, and while Peter was sure that his short hair had once been blonde, it was now peppered with grey. Permanent worry lines creased his forehead, giving his face a weight that wouldn't have been there otherwise. His strong jaw was covered in stubble in the same no-longer-blonde shade as the hair on his head.

 

Peter's eyes strayed downward, to a thick neck with a loose tie strung around it. The navy-blue suit he wore was something Peter knew without a doubt he could never afford. Peter could feel his piercing blue eyes on him like a physical pressure, pulling him apart like they were examining every hidden aspect of him.

 

Peter barely wanted to breathe in the sudden silence, let alone speak, but the silence was killing him.

 

“Like what you see?” he offered playfully. His smile wavered, that feeling of discomfort still present under the older man’s gaze.

 

“No,” the man replied, and Peter’s smile disappeared in an instant.

 

He didn’t know why the words struck him harder than they should have; the man was nothing to him, after all. Still, his disapproval was something Peter hadn’t expected. He tried not to let his discontent show on his face.

 

“Oh,” he hastily replied hoping that he didn’t sound as disappointed as he felt. “Well, your guy can take me back. If he gets me there before 4:00, I might still make my quota. Sorry that I’m not what you wanted.”

 

 

Peter quickly crossed the room, squeezing to get past the man and away from the sudden burning shame. Worry grew in him, a gnawing thought that he might not make the money he needed before the night was out and was expected home. He didn’t want to think about the ramifications if he came home short.

 

 

Before he could make his escape, though, a strong hand gripped his arm and forced him to stop.

 

Yondu bit his tongue as the mischievous sparkle left those striking green eyes to be replaced with crushing insecurity and sadness. He could have kicked himself for speaking without thinking first, but something about the boy had rendered him temporarily senseless. Yet he hadn't been lying. While he definitely didn't like what he saw, that hadn't meant he didn't like the boy. He'd meant that he didn't like how someone so breathtaking was selling himself to make money.

 

No, this man before him deserved the finest tailored suits on his broad shoulders, the most expensive champagne to sip from a bed of silk pillows. He deserved everything Yondu's money could buy. He sure as fuck didn't deserve rags, starvation, and prostitution.

 

There was something about the boy that Yondu didn’t understand. His stomach had never flip-flopped for any of the others like it was doing for the ginger before him. Yondu felt his cold heart might break at hearing the sadness in the boy’s voice as he spoke. He only grew sadder when the boy apologized as if he was the problem, and Yondu wondered what kind of hardships he’d endured in his short life to cause such easy defeat.

 

 

Yondu wasn’t surprised when his hand fit all the way around the boy’s small bicep when it took next to no effort to stop him in his tracks.

 

He waited until the boy was looking him tentatively in the eye before he spoke, voice rough with an emotion he couldn’t name. “Don’t you ever apologize again. Not to me, not to anyone. You hear me?”

 

 

He realized at that moment that even though he couldn’t understand why he would give anything to take away the broken sadness on the boy’s face. The boy couldn’t hold his gaze, turning instead to the floor before he nodded in understanding of Yondu’s command.

 

 

“When was the last time you ate anything?” Yondu asked, trying to soften his tone and doubting he was succeeding.

 

Peter only shrugged in reply. The man’s hand was hard against his arm, and he knew from too much experience that it would probably bruise his pale skin.

 

Yondu did not like this quiet submission, and he frowned. “Use your words, boy.”

 

“I ate before I went to work,” Peter clarified quickly.

 

“And how long ago was that?”

 

 Peter still couldn’t meet the judgmental blue eyes which were drilling into the side of his face.  “Six o’clock this morning… maybe seven.”

 

“What did you eat?”

 

“An apple,” Peter replied truthfully.  He had stolen it from the market as he walked past one of the stalls that morning.

 

 

Yondu sighed. He didn’t know why he wasn’t surprised. Almost 24 hours without eating; no wonder the boy was nothing more than skin and bones.

 

“Stay,” Yondu ordered, releasing the boy’s arm and sparing a thought to hope he hadn’t left a bruise on his delicate skin. He was pleased when the boy didn’t move.

 

Gabby or one of the other staff would be in the kitchen, or at least they had better be. He paid them well enough so that the kitchen was open at any given hour. There was always someone starting or ending a guard shift at night, and Yondu wanted his men to be looked after. The phone was answered on the second ring, and the laughing tone of the worker on the other end of the line disappeared when he realized he was talking directly to Yondu. Yondu ordered quickly, knowing that it would only be a couple of minutes; his orders always took priority over everyone else’s. Perks of being the boss.

 

 He turned his attention back to the boy as soon as the call was over.

 

The frustrated lust that had filled him when he walked into the room was gone, replaced with sadness and pity. As he gazed at the much-too-thin man in front of him, his thoughts shifted from sex to other things; to the sudden all-consuming urge to make the boy happy, to see him healthy. He knew he  only be content once he took care of the boy.

 

“Come sit down,” Yondu ordered. He doubted that if he'd asked the boy nicely to sit by him he'd even be able to move, overcome as he seemed to be with fear. Yondu knew, though, that he would follow orders, and was pleased when the boy proved him right by skittering quickly and silently across the room to take a seat on one of the couches

 

Yondu waited for the boy to be settled before seating himself on the other end of the couch. He groaned as he did so, his old bones aching, loosening his tie the rest of the way and tossing the garment carelessly over his shoulder. For several minutes, they sat in silence. Yondu kicked his feet up onto the table, at ease, but the boy remained stiff as a board in his seat.

 

Peter jumped at the sudden knock on the door, on edge already and grew increasingly nervous by the second. He had no idea what was happening, what he had done wrong to cause the man to look at him with such anger. Why was the man keeping him if he wasn't satisfied? He watched cautiously as the older man went to answer the door, eyes flicking around the room so he could contemplate possible escape routes. There was only one door out of the room though, and he had no idea whether the windows even opened. He could have kicked himself for not checking before the man came in, for being too caught up in the luxury before him to be smart about the situation like Gamora and Nebula had always taught him. Not that an open window would do him any good, seeing as he was four stories up, but it would have made him feel more secure to know he had some kind of out.

 

 

Peter half watched, half stared at the ground as a large cart was wheeled into the room, his empty stomach dropping as he realized the tray on top was filled with food. He could smell the delicious aromas the second the door unlocked. Slowly, the man opened the silver domed plates, laying the array of food on the table before him. Now Peter understood why the man had asked him about his eating habits. It was more than cruel for him to force Peter to watch him eat while Peter himself was starving. Peter wished that he could say it was the first time something like this had happened.

 

 

It wasn’t.

 

 

Maybe if he was good, he could get the man’s scraps after he was done.

 

“Alright,” Yondu said, placing the last plate on the table. “What you don’t eat, I can have the staff wrap up for you, and you can take it home in the morning.”

 

“Wait… What?” Peter asked, confused. He’d heard what the man had said, but surely he was mistaken?

 

“Eat, but don’t make yourself sick. Whatever you don’t get to, you can take home.”

 

“Wait… Wait…” Peter was still disoriented. “This food is for me?”

 

Yondu’s brows drew together in confusion. “Who else would it be for?”

 

He couldn’t help his smirk at the spark of excitement his words lit in the boy’s eyes.

 

“I don’t know. Last time… well, let’s just say that it wasn’t for me.” The spark flashed away as the boy remember something, and Yondu could only assume it was a less than pleasant memory.

 

“Well, I ain’t that person, and I don’t lie.” Yondu prided himself on his honesty, in fact, on his unerring ability to tell the truth no matter the situation. “I ain’t gonna say it again, alright? Eat what you want, and you can take the rest with you when you leave..”

 

He passed over some utensils, noting the battle that was clearly raging behind the boy's eyes. He'd seen that look, seen the hardness borne of too many betrayals. The boy wanted to accept the charity but must have been burnt in the past. Those long thin fingers reached out but wavered mere inches away from the fork.

 

 

“Is it poisoned or something?” Peter asked, not expecting the chuckle he got in return.

 

“Nah. Nothin’ like that.”

 

 

Yondu proved it by popping one of the grapes into his mouth. The other hesitated another few seconds; but eventually, the need to fill his empty belly won out, and he took the proffered fork, tucking into the meal with gusto.

 

Peter didn’t remember the last time he had eaten so well, but he could hazard a guess. It probably hadn’t been since his mother had died. She had been an incredible cook. After her death, Peter ate whatever he could find, or steal, but it hadn’t been much. When he was in school, he would eat anything, everything he could find. But now, meals were few and far between. The money he brought in went to pay for their shitty apartment, and whatever drugs and/or alcohol Ego was addicted to that week. Sometimes, when Peter was freezing in his too-small bed with an aching hollow belly, he tried to call up the smell or taste of his mother’s cooking, seeking a long-gone comfort in his dreary life.

 

The man had promised that he could take whatever was left on the plates home, but Peter knew from experience that it was highly unlikely. So, he set out to try some of all of it, managing about half of what was before him, unsure as always of when his next meal would be. Beside him, the man remained silent, watching him shovel the food into his mouth unattractively. Occasionally, he would snatch up a grape and pop it between his lips, or pick up a slice of bread to chew on; but overall, he kept to his quiet observation.

 

“Do you have some kinda food kink or something?” Peter finally asked around a mouthful of food. The man looked at him funny, his forehead crinkled, so Peter swallowed his bite and clarified: “Do you get off watching me eat?”

 

“Nah.” Yondu chuckled. “Nothin’ like that.”

 

“Then why did you do it?”

 

“’Cause, you were hungry.”

 

“So?” Peter questioned as he shoved another cracker into his mouth. Beside him, Yondu smiled.

 

“I didn’t like what I saw when I looked at you.” He didn’t miss the ways the boy’s face fell, ever so slightly. “All skin and bones. It’s unhealthy. You hooked on something?” Yondu questioned.

                                                                                                  

“No.” Peter didn’t hesitate to answer. He had seen firsthand what drugs did to a person. He wasn’t going to end up like Ego. He was better than that. “Just don’t eat often. Got other priorities.”

 

Yondu hummed, contemplating the boy’s words.

 

 

‘Other priorities’, huh?

 

He didn’t know what the boy meant, but his skin itched wondering what could be more important to the boy than his own health. It pleased him to know that the boy wasn’t on drugs, and he watched with amusement as his stomach caught up with his eyes and his pace slowed. He must have been hungrier than Yondu had given him credit for. When he looked at what remained on the tray, he realized that the skinny thing had downed half of everything, and an entire loaf of bread. Now, the boy wavered, half asleep in his seat, a soft look of contentment on his face.

 

 

Yondu smirked, satisfied with his work. He would get the boy settled before calling the staff to come clean up.

 

“Hey,” Yondu whispered, but his raspy voice was loud in the quiet room. Beside him the boy jumped, startled awake from his light doze.

 

“Yes. No. Sorry. I’m awake. I’m awake.” His eyes were blinking out of sync with one another as he fought off sleep, and Yondu found it incredibly endearing.

 

“Come on, boy, let’s get you to bed,” Yondu said, reaching down with strong arms to pull the kid up from where he was slumped on the couch. Those long legs wobbled, but only for a moment before he seemed to gain his footing.

 

Peter was hyper-aware of the man’s touch as he led him into the bedroom. It wasn’t so much a forceful movement as it was a light guiding touch at his lower back and it sent shivers racing up Peter’s spine.

 

“I’m awake. Definitely awake,” he said as the back of his knees hit the soft bed, and he was forced to sit. He was tired, dazed from an unexpectedly full belly and the warmth of the room. A hand on his ankle startled him, causing him to jump and look down to where the man was kneeling before him. He hadn’t even noticed that happening.

 

“I can…” Peter started, reaching down to pull his shoes off. He didn’t want to see the anger on the man’s face when he realized he was kneeling in a $5,000 suit. The man just slapped his hand away, though and continued his task.

 

“Stand up,” Yondu ordered, offering his hand to the boy once he’d gotten the ratty shoes off of his feet. He absently filed away the boy’s shoe size for later, already vowing to get this kid at the very least something decent to put on his feet.

 

The boy allowed himself to be pulled up without protest, and Yondu couldn’t help reaching out to run a hand along his hip. He bit his lip as he slipped his fingers under the tight t-shirt, skittering along the pale skin just above the top of his trousers. The skin was unexpectedly soft, delicate, and Yondu wanted nothing more than to run his tongue along every inch, wanted the boy writhing beneath him as he set out to see if the skin was as sweet as it looked.

 

Not now, though. That wasn’t what this was about. It was about caring for the boy, about focusing on doing something useful that didn’t involve work. He pushed his hands up the boy’s flank, taking the shirt with him, drinking in the content half-asleep sounds that the kid made under his ministrations. Yondu chuckled quietly as he pulled the shirt over the boy’s head. The neck was too small, and Yondu struggled to get it off. The boy stumbled sleepily back when his head finally popped free, hair an adorable disarray, and Yondu’s thick arms reached out to steady him. He tossed the shirt aside and made a note to throw in a few shirts to go with the shoes he planned on getting.

 

 

It took even more effort to get the boy’s jeans off, as they were several sizes too small, hugging his hips tightly. Yondu pushed him back onto the bed so he could yank at the legs of the trousers, not missing the angry red marks they left behind on the man’s pale skin. The boy was struggled against the sleep trying to overtake him, eyes filling with fear every time he drifted too deep. Yondu worried about the story behind such fear and wondered who had caused him to be so incredibly on-edge from something as simple as listening to his body’s commands.

 

 

Yondu leaned over so he could pull back the covers, and the boy pulled himself to his elbows so he could push his face into Yondu’s shoulder.

 

“’msorry,” the boy sleepily yawned.

 

“Don’t you apologize again. Not to me. Got it? You’re doin’ just fine.” Yondu ran a hand over the soft skin of the man’s side. He could feel the scars more than he could see them and made a note to ask the boy about them later. The boy only hummed in response.

 

 

“Come on,” Yondu mumbled, easily maneuvering the man under the covers. He immediately curled in on himself once he was laying down, and the action sent a pang of sadness through Yondu. He tucked the covers around the boy anyway, thinking about the other things he had to attend to.

 

The staff was more than willing to comply with his request, assuring him hastily that they were sending someone right up to collect the food. They did, however, question him when he told what name to put it under. He repeated himself firmly, and they set aside their confusion, quickly writing “StarLord” on the containers. As they left, he made sure to lock the door behind them. He didn’t want anyone to disturb him during the night.

 

Yondu went about his nightly routine, washing his face, brushing his teeth, and running a comb through his thinning hair before slipping into the bed beside ‘StarLord’. A hand on the boy’s hip drew him closer, pulling his back to press against Yondu’s firm muscular chest. He wrapped his arm around the boy’s waist, tucking the ginger head under his chin, and allowed the boy’s steady even breaths to lull him into an easy sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible trigger warning: Physical violence (slapping), Mention of violence. Degradation (Name calling), other possible apply. 
> 
> Read as advised.

Yondu felt lighter as he woke. Caring for the boy had allowed him to focus on something other than the stress of work. Showing off his tender side wasn’t something that he allowed himself to do often. He was the boss, and as such he was required to be strong, and cold... to be evil. Caring was a luxury he couldn’t afford, but his need to protect his men and crew was always present in every decision that he made.  They just didn't know it. It was a nice to openly care for someone, to know they were better because of him. Watching the boy eat last night has been something primal for Yondu. It didn't arouse him, but it made him happy.

 

The boy hadn’t moved much during the night, and Yondu had woken with his slight form nestled against his chest. Yondu smiled to himself as he noticed the light shining in through the window; it had to be at least 10:00 AM. He hadn't slept past 6:00 AM in months, and a full night’s rest had done him good. He snuggled back into his pillows, wishing he had remembered to close the blinds before going to bed. Beside him, the boy began to stir. Yondu hummed, happy to feel the shifting of the tight muscles. He didn't expect the boy to jump away from him like he was on fire.

 

"Fuck!" Peter surged to life, launching himself out of the bed. His foot caught in the sheet, sending him tumbling unceremoniously to the ground. Caught up in the warmth of the man’s body wrapped around his, in the comfort of a bed his size with clean, soft sheets, he’d allowed his guard to slip. It had been a mistake. He’d overslept, and now Ego would be angry. Peter didn't want to think of the ramifications that were undoubtedly awaiting him. He jumped to his feet, ignoring the ache in his knee from his impact with the wood floor.

 

"You alright, boy?" the man asked, pulling himself up on one elbow to peer at Peter.

 

"Fine. Fine. I just... Just… I have to go." 

 

 

Peter tried to hide the panic in his voice. It wasn't working.

 

"Alright, alright. Calm down now, boy, I’ll get ya home."

 

Peter whirled around to face him, trousers dangling from one hand, eyes wide with fear. "You don't understand! I have to go."

 

 

Yondu could hear the fear in his voice, could see it written clearly on his face. Seeing that look on the boy’s face stirred something in him; a primal anger, a need to make whoever caused that look pay.

 

"Alright," Yondu soothed,  tossing the sheets back and hastily getting out of the bed. He couldn’t help the flare of disappointment in his chest as the reality of the situation slowly set in. There was more he wanted to do for the boy. Take him shopping, maybe, feed him more definitely. That wasn’t to mention the things Yondu longed to do to him in bed, the things he hadn’t allowed himself to indulge in the night before...

 

He snatched up his phone and quickly typed out a message to Kraglin.

 

Bring the car around. My Guest needs to leave. Get the food.  Triple the payment.

 

There was only a momentary hesitation before a reply came.

 

Yes, Sir.

 

"The car's waitin’ for you downstairs." Yondu turned back to face the boy, not missing how the boy quickly diverted his eyes from him. In only his boxers, Yondu's body was on display. That included all of his scars. He knew that the sight of his past mapped on his body sometimes made people uncomfortable, and so he quickly slipped his shirt over his shoulders and buttoned it to his throat. They stood awkwardly across the room from one another, at odds.

 

"Here." The boy pulled several bills from a hidden pocket in his trousers.

 

He averted his gaze again; bills held out in front of him like an offering. "We didn't... So, I don't expect..."

 

Peter couldn’t expect to get paid if he didn't put out. He was going to return home late and short of his quota. Ego would not be happy. Peter didn't want to think about the beating he was in for.

 

 

 Confusion turned to worry as the other man didn't move to take the money. "I don't know what you want from me," Peter sighed, shoulders drooping.

 

"Keep the money. Get yourself a nice shirt and a decent pair of jeans... maybe some new shoes." Yondu smiled lightly, but the boy couldn't meet his eye. He still held the money out, willing Yondu to take it.

 

Yondu hesitated but gave up in the face of the boy's determined look. Their fingers brushed when Yondu reached out to take the money, sending a shudder up Yondu's spine. There were so many things Yondu wanted to do to them, and they boy was standing so close. If he took one step forward, he could capture the man’s lips, could wrap his arms around that body. It was all he wanted at that moment; but before he had the chance to act on his impulse, his phone buzzed, capturing both their attention.

 

"Right, the car... Well..." The man was so close that Peter almost couldn’t breathe. One step, one inch and he could feel the soft skin and strong arms that had held him all night. He couldn’t ever remember feeling this way before.

 

"Last night was..."  Peter didn't know what to say. Perfect. Amazing. The most he had eaten in years. The nicest anyone had very been to him. Instead, he turned and was quickly out of the room, taking the stairs two at a time in his haste to leave.

 

 

 Yondu watched him go, unable to define the gut wrenching feeling that filled him as the boy exited.

 

<><><><><><><><><><><><> 

 

"What's this?" Peter asked later, as the black SUV he and the skinny man were in pulled to his corner. He looked at the thick envelope in his hands, confused, before turning his gaze back to the dark-haired man. They sat in silence the whole ride back to his corner, and he’d already had his hand on the door handle when the man caught his arm and shoved the envelope into his hands.

 

"Your payment."

 

"But..."

 

"My employer insists."

 

"But..." Peter tried to argue.

 

"He ain't someone to reject kid. Take the money. If I come back with it, he's going to have my head. It's for the best. Maybe buy yourself a jacket." The man shrugged, turning his attention back to his phone.

 

Peter waited on the corner until the large black SUV was out of sight. He let out a shaky breath. Last night had been one of the best nights that he could remember. He held tightly to the envelope of cash in his hand. There was over $700 in it; that was a full day of work for one night. Maybe if he took it to Ego, he wouldn't get the beating that he knew was waiting for him. In his other hand, he held the tray of food. It had been waiting for him in the car. Peter smiled to himself, happy that the older man had kept his promise.

 

"Starlord!" Gamora called to him, catching his attention. “Are you alright? Ego’s been looking for you all night. He was upset you didn’t come home.”

 

“I'm alright. Just got back actually.”

 

“Wow, it must have been some night! Did he pay you well?”

 

“Very.” Peter smiled at the memory of last night. It would be the only thing keeping him going for a while.

 

“What's that?” She gestured to the tray of food, eyeing it hungrily.

 

“Here. Share it with the others. There should be plenty to go around. I gotta get going. He's going to have my head. I shouldn't be gone long.” He thrust the container into her hands and turned towards his home.

 

“Make sure to share!” Peter yelled over his shoulder as he took off running down the street.

 

The apartment wasn’t too far from his corner; half a mile at the most. Peter had grown up on the streets and could make it easily from one place to the other quickly. He knew all the back streets and alleyways by heart. Between his late sleeping, the hour-long ride, and run home, it almost noon before he opened the door.

 

The sound of shifting beer cans greeted him as he pushed the door open. They littered the floor.. Flies buzzed around a sink full of dirty dishes, and there were so many piles of clothes that walking through the house was like walking through a minefield. Without Peter there to clean up, nothing got done.

 

On the couch Ego lay, passed out his shirt soiled and stained. The tourniquet still wrapped tightly around his arm. Peter secretly longed for the day when he would come home, and Ego will have had overdosed. But as the man’s beer belly inflated, then deflated, Peter realized today would not be that day. He quickly went to the small corner he called his room and pulled the envelope out of his pocket.

 

Most of it would go to Ego, some would go to rent, but none of it was supposed to go to Peter. Little did Ego know, Peter had been secretly stashing a little money away. He had a couple thousand stuffed in his mattress. He quickly grabbed a bill and stashed it in with the others. Ego was too stupid and lazy to look because he had spent his life making sure Peter was in a constant state of fear, that he was too meek to try something like this. Peter was scared, but he was smart. He knew Ego wouldn’t be around forever. When he finally died, Peter needed some way to support himself.

 

“Where the hell you been?” Ego’s voice caught his attention.

 

“Working.” Peter threw the envelope on the table. Ego eyed it for a second before snatching it up.

 

“Well, you better get back to it. Mr. Lee is upping the rent this month.” Ego shifted on the couch, closing his eyes once more. He cradled the envelope of money like it was a precious child and Peter sighed.

 

“Why would he do that?”

 

“You haven't fucked him in six weeks. You whoring for him is the only way we can afford this place. So, either fuck him and get the price down, or fuck someone else and make more money. Either way, I don’t care. Get out of my hair.” Ego shifted again on the couch, head falling back. Peter stood watching, not surprised when the man started snoring. With a sigh, Peter rolled his shoulders. He knew what he had to do. Might as well get it over with.

 

He showered quickly. He had to dig through the pile of clothes to find something remotely clean to wear. Eventually, he found a see-through skin tight shirt, so small on him now that he almost wasn’t able to fit it over his head. Peter sighed as he put on his shoes and his toe poked out.

 

Perfect.

 

Mr. Lee lived on the third floor. He said nothing as he opened the door, motioning Peter inside. Peter knew the drill. Lee wasn't a large man, and Peter had no problem taking him all the way down. It was quick, like always. Peter groaned as he got back on his feet from his bruised knee. It was going to be a hard week until it healed up. He missed the large silk bed more than he expected.

 

“$50 off the rent.” The old Korean man spoke quickly, his attention on the TV. Peter said nothing as he exited the apartment.  He would come back tomorrow and the next day, until rent was a more reasonable price.

 

<><><><><><><><><>

 

Yondu had believed that once Tazer was out of the picture the uprising would end and everything would quiet down. That hadn’t been the case. If anything, things had gotten worse. Three of their shipments had been stolen from the docks, five of their dealers had been shot, and three of the section leads had been placed in jail. All in two weeks. It had been one hell of a time.

 

Yondu rode in the back of the SUV in silence. Another one of the containers (this one filled with weapons) had been broken into, and its contents stolen. Five men had died, and Yondu was headed out to survey the damage.

 

His men fell silent as the vehicle pulled up and their stern captain stepped out. Yondu quietly observed the damage. It was far more gruesome than he’d been expecting. His men had been hogtied and shot, right between the eyes like an execution.  He had no doubt that was a professional job. Someone had known which container was his and how to hit the Ravagers where it hurt.

 

“Clean up the container. Dispose of the bodies. Send flowers to their families.” Yondu was quickly away. He was tired. Tired of watching the people he cared about die. They were the closest he had to kin, and someone was taking them from him. Tension bled into his shoulder, pulling at his brain. He hadn't gotten a good night’s rest since he had held the boy to his chest, lulled to sleep by his even breathing.

 

In the wee hours of the morning, when the world was spinning too fast to sleep, he thought of the boy. The sparkling green eyes and auburn curls. He wondered what the boy was doing and who he might be with. The idea of others touching the boy’s pale skin made Yondu angry. He knew that was stupid. He barely knew the kid, and he was a hooker. Of course he’d be with other people. Still, he couldn’t help the flare of possessiveness every time he thought about the boy with someone else. That, coupled with everything else that was happening as of late, had caused Yondu’s temper to become razor sharp. He was always angry, always on edge, snapping without meaning.

 

He ran a hand over his face as he stared out the window. His world was crumbling in around him, and he didn’t know how to fix it. But that wasn’t his main concern. No matter what was happening, his thoughts found their way back to the boy.

 

Kraglin watched his Captain. Things were changing. They were losing their ground. The Ravagers had been strong for many years, all thanks to Yondu and his dedication. But it was wearing on the old man. Dark circles hung under his eyes. His shoulders were tense. He clutched his hands so tightly that his knuckles were white. He needed a break.

 

“What can I do to help?” Kraglin asked. He spoke not as Yondu’s second in command, but as his friend. He wasn’t surprised that the man’s answer was immediate.

 

“Bring me Starlord.” Yondu didn’t turn his gaze from the window.

<><><><><><><><><><>

Peter was kneeling in something wet. It could have been piss, it could have been vomit, but he couldn’t tell because he couldn’t see. His eyes watered as the man above him shoved in hard, the tip of his cock hitting the back of Peter’s throat. Peter didn’t gag anymore; his body was trained better than that.

 

Still, his eyes watered as the cock in his mouth cut off his air supply, threatening him with a blackout. Every time he got close to passing out, though, the man would pull back, allowing him one deep inhale before shoving back in. Peter could tell by the way the man chuckled that he was enjoying the sense of power. Peter sucked harder, hoping that it would be over soon. He could tell by the stuttering of the man’s hips that he was pretty close.

 

The hand in his hair was painful. It pulled him forward as the man reached his high. He kept himself buried in Peter’s mouth even as he began to soften. In his younger days, Peter would have begun to panic as his vision whited around the edges,  but a couple of good beatings had straightened him out. Now, he waited.

 

He fell backward, landing hard on his ass, as the man released him. Peter coughed as he wiped the spit from his mouth. The latex left his mouth tasting dirty and stale. He hated that taste, but it was far better than the guy coming down his throat.

 

Above him, the man removed the condom. He tied it off and threw it in the dumpster they had ducked behind. He groaned as he zipped up his trousers, his cock sensitive. There was a momentary, stilled silence before the back of his hand landed hard across Peter’s cheek. Peter couldn’t say he was surprised. The man straightened his suit before dropping another bill into Peter’s lap.

 

“Whore.” The man spat. He was quickly away, leaving Peter to sit in the filthy = alley. Peter stayed for a moment to catch his breath. He could already feel the throbbing in his face. A bruise would blossom there within the next hours or so. Still, at least he had made an extra $20. He allowed himself to sit for a solid minute before pulling himself to his feet. He returned to his corner, kicking at a rock as he went.

 

His thoughts were drawn to the last pleasant touch he had experienced. He tried to remember the way the man’s thumb twirled around his hip bone or the soft caress of the man’s lips on his shoulder blade. The man had thought he was sleep, but Peter had been awake, drinking up the feeling of the light touches.

 

Those feelings were the only thing that had kept him going over the last two weeks All that had gotten him through all the hair pulling, hitting; and scratching. One woman’s manicured nails had raked across his back. Days later the marks still stung when he washed them.

 

There were a couple of others on the street. The temperature had begun to rise. It was still cold late at night, but Peter no longer saw his breath as he walked to his corner each morning. He stopped at his normal location, leaning against the wall. Nebula wasn’t far away, and Peter amused himself by making faces at her. She laughed and smiled, but his fun was short lived as she was motioned into a car. Peter sighed. This was his life, after all.

 

Peter was sure he was an unwelcome sight to see. His cheek had swelled significantly, and his lips were red from use. There was a stain on his thigh where he had fallen in the alleyway. He tried not to think about what caused it. Several cars passed by, pausing momentarily before continuing. If he didn’t work harder for it, Ego would add to the bruises he already had. The sun was setting when the large black SUV pulled to a stop before his area. Peter’s heart skipped a beat as the dark-haired man held open the door for him. He was quickly in the car, relishing in the softness of the seat.

 

“Here,” The man said, offering him some ice cubes wrapped in a napkin.

 

Peter hissed as he placed the coldness against his cheek. It was a pleasant pain. “Thanks.”

 

“You should be honored, he’s never requested the same person twice,” the man said, his attention on his phone. Peter looked out the window, not understanding why that information made his stomach flip-flop. They stayed in silence for most of the ride. Peter looked out the window, and the other man continued to text.

 

“He ain’t going to be very happy about that,” the man stated as he examined Peter’s cheek. He took Peter’s chin between two light fingers and turned his head to get a better look. The feeling was odd but not unwelcome. The ice had melted, running down Peter’s arm and making his fingers numb.

 

“Who did it?”

 

“A client.” Peter shrugged. It wasn’t the worst thing to happen to him before.

 

“Where?”

 

“Some alleyway.” Peter looked at the man confused. The other returned to his seat across from Peter, his attention turning to his phone. Peter gave him a concerned look before returning his attention out the window.

<><><><><><><><><>

Yondu knew he should have gone back to his office. There was so much work to be done that it was frankly daunting. He needed to fill out the requisite paperwork for the incident, draw up death certificates for the men, and find some way to supplement the lost income from the stolen weapons. Instead, he made his way to the guest room.

 

Ever since his interaction with the boy, Yondu had been sleeping in the guest room. The place had a more ‘lived in’ feeling. His insomnia loomed over his bed like a cloud, while the guest bed held happy memories. If he shifted just right, he could still smell the boy’s scent on the pillows.

 

Yondu pulled the box from under the bed. It had all the things he might need for the night: toys, plugs, rings, cuffs, ropes, and above all, silk pajamas for the boy to wear. Yondu had ordered them only three days after the boy had left him. He hadn’t thought about it until after he had already checkout on the website. He didn’t even know if he would see the boy again, but he couldn’t bring himself to cancel the order. They were burgundy in color and had come with matching boxers and a robe. Yondu’s heart skipped thinking about how they would look against the boy’s pale skin.

 

He laid them out on the bed, moving his attention to other things Like calling the kitchen and ordering some food. Once they’d assured him it would arrive soon, he dug the bubble bath out of the cabinet and grabbed two of his softest towels. As promised, it was only a few minutes before the food arrived. He stood back and watched as the staff laid out the domed plates, wincing as the aroma made his stomach clench. He hadn’t eaten all day, but he could wait for the boy. Fortunately, it wouldn’t be much longer.


	4. Chapter 4

Peter followed the man as he ascended the steps to the entrance way, across the lobby, and up the right stairwell. The man never looked from his phone, going from memory. It had only been two weeks, but Peter was completely lost in the maze-like corridor. The man stopped at the familiar door, knocking twice before pushing it open. He motioned Peter in, closing the door once he was inside, leaving him alone.

 

 

The room smelled heavenly. There were plates of everything he could ever want on the table. Peter tried not to drool. He hadn’t eaten since yesterday’s breakfast. He fidgeted in the doorway, his eyes never leaving the food.

 

“It's for you…” The raspy voice caught Peter's attention. He looked to find the older man in the doorway, wearing slacks and a white button up with the sleeves rolled up over his strong forearms. “Well, technically, it’s for us, but I ordered extra.”

 

The older man’s face fell as he saw the bruise on the younger man’s cheek. Where the hell had that come from? The thought of someone hurting his little Star Lord had him grinding his teeth.

 

He reminded himself that the most important thing here was getting the boy fed when he saw the longing look on the boy's face as he turned his attention from Yondu to the food. Yondu pushed aside his fire and moved from the doorway to sit on the couch patting the seat next to him in invitation when he saw the other’s clear hesitation.

 

“Don't worry boy, I ain't gonna bite.” He extended a plate to the younger man. There was a hesitation, before he gave in and sat down before the table.

 

The boy scarfed down the food like he was sure at any moment Yondu was going to take it away from him, and the thought made Yondu frown. He didn’t like it, didn’t like the clear signs that this kid had been starved and abused so much in his life he couldn’t trust a gesture of goodwill.

 

 

Yondu ate slower, his attention on the boy, focusing on the blossoming purple color of his cheek. The longer he stared at it, the angrier he got.

 

“What happened?” Yondu questioned, keeping his voice even so he didn’t scare Star Lord.

 

“Huh?” Peter asked around a mouth full of food. He was too caught up in the sweet relief of a rapidly filling belly to pay attention to anything else, and had almost missed the man saying anything at all.

 

“What happened to your cheek?” Yondu asked, brushing his own cheek where the other man’s bruise was.

 

“Oh….” Peter quickly swallowed his food. “It's nothing. Just a client with some unresolved anger issues. Nothing I can't handle.”

 

Peter kept his attention on his plate. Yondu watched him, intensely. He didn’t speak as he stood from the couch, heading to his phone in the bedroom. His text was short and to the point.

 

Find who hurt him. Make them pay.

 

Kraglin’s response was immediate

 

Already working on it, Sir.

 

Yondu smirked as he lay his phone down and headed back to the room. The boy had stopped eating, and his shoulders slumped. He looked defeated. Yondu seated himself allowing their knees to brush together and waited for the boy to speak up.

 

“Did I do something wrong?” He finally asked, sounding as defeated as he looked.

 

“What makes you think that?”

 

“Your guy, the one in the car, that picked me up… He said you never ask for the same… person twice. Did I do something wrong? Is this, like, my last meal? Then you're going to kill me?” Peter asked, fearful. Fear turned into dread as the man beside him barked in laughter.

 

“Don’t be silly, boy. I wouldn’t have brought you under my roof if I was gonna kill ya.”

 

“Oh.” Peter didn’t know what to say to that. “Then why… why did you ask for me again? Not one of the others? They would have been better than me. All I've managed to do is eat your food and drool on your pillow.”

 

Yondu’s eyes softened as he saw the insecurity on the other’s face.

 

“Maybe that's all I want you to do.” Yondu took a chance, extending his hand to cradle the non-injured side of the boy’s face. He smiled as the boy leaned into his touch. “Maybe when I look at you, I see someone deserving of a full stomach and soft place to lay.”

 

Yondu ran his thumb over the man’s cheekbone and along to his bottom lip. They were so close, but he didn't want to startle the boy. He drank up the content sounds the other made. They sent a shiver up his spine. When the boy moaned and captured his thumb between his lips, Yondu thought he might cum right there.

 

The boy's eyes watched him for a reaction, which he got. Peter smirked as the man’s mouth dropped open and a moan escaped his chest. He wasn’t expecting the man to pull away so quickly. Peter was half disappointed, but it didn’t last.

 

The man pulled him forward with a hand on his neck. It wasn't forceful; it was guiding. Their lips slammed together in a bruising yet satisfying way. For a second, Peter was caught off guard. He’d never kissed a client before. Kissing meant too many emotions, ones he couldn't afford to feel. But as the man encouraged him, Peter allowed himself to sink into the feeling. He moved his lips as the other did, parting when the man’s tongue demanded entrance.

 

He moaned as the man's clever tongue explored his teeth, demanding and wet and so incredibly hot. When he felt a large warm hand on his knee he gasped, thrilling in anticipation as it snuck higher and higher until it stopped to firmly caress the steadily growing bulge in his trousers. Peter pulled his mouth away with a heady moan at the feeling, unbelievably turned on.

 

“You done eatin’?” the man questioned. “’Cause I got other plans for you tonight.”

 

“Fuck, Yes!” Peter pushed his plate away from him and pulled the older man to drape over him on the couch, spreading his thighs to make room for his thick torso. He grasped the man by the collar of his shirt and pulled until their lips collided once more, groaning as their tongues met.

 

They stayed that way for who knew how long, Yondu between the boy's long legs, grinding against his crotch. He could feel his arousal answered in the hard length rubbing against his, and it was everything he'd been wanting since the second he'd seen this boy. All the while his tongue explored the boy's mouth, tasting his near sweetness like the most delicious candy. The boy was panting into his open mouth, deceptively strong arms wrapped around his neck to keep him close.

 

“Please,” Peter panted, and he didn’t quite know what he was begging for as they pulled apart for air. Nothing had ever felt like this before. His skin tingled everywhere the man touched, and that raspy voice was all the he wanted, was doing all sorts of things to his libido.

 

“Don’t worry boy, I gotcha.” Reluctantly Yondu stood from the couch.

 

 

Peter though he might cry until strong arms reached down and pulled him to his feed.

 

 “I gotcha,” the man husked again, standing so close to Peter that their noses brushed. Peter pushed forward for another taste, but the man pulled away, stroking at Peter’s hip with strong warm fingers. Peter made a wordless noise of frustration and the man chuckled at him.

 

 

Yondu took Peter’s hand pulling him into the bedroom. “Come on.” Peter willingly went, stopping short when he caught a glimpse of the clothes laid out on top of the mattress.

 

“Are those…?” He questioned, in absolute awe at such a sweet gesture from this man he barely knew.

 

 Yondu pulled him into another searing kiss, pressing his body against the boy’s when he responded to the kiss with breathtaking enthusiasm.

 

“Only the best for my boy,” Yondu said when they’d finally pulled apart. He smiled, brushing their nose together.

 

Peter didn’t know when he’d become the other man’s ‘boy’, but he found that the idea made his heart skip in happiness. He brought their mouths together again in a much gentler caress, leaning into the strong hand that came up to stroke his jaw.

 

Yondu hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but he was pleased when the boy reacted happily, clearly not minding. Yondu smiled into the soft kiss, drinking up the other’s affection.

 

The sweet kiss quickly turned heated as the boy pushed his body into Yondu's, groaning into his open mouth as the action rubbed their aching lengths together. Yondu allowed the boy to push him back until they went crashing onto the mattress, and then there was a long body crawling up his, straddling his hips. The boy was a light weight above him, and Yondu couldn't help giving a little roll of his hips, pushing up so he could rub himself against that perfect ass.

 

The boy moaned and it spurred Yondu into action. His hands worked quickly, reaching down to pull of his shoes and socks, stripping him of his shirt, raking his nails once down his back before setting to work on his trousers. He struggled there, grunting in irritation when the skin-tight material refused to budge. Fuck! He was gonna cut them right the hell off if he couldn't get them down right that second.

 

Peter chuckled, amused as he watched the man’s increasingly desperate attempt at pulling his pants down. Truthfully, even he struggled to get into the small garments, getting out of them in a hurry wasn’t a thing. Taking pity on the older man, he rolled onto the open side of the bed and shimmied out of them.

 

Yondu watched hungrily as the boy stripped, mouthwatering when he was full exposed, laid out naked on the bed like the most perfect gift. He didn't miss the fact that the boy went commando, and he felt heat pool low in his belly at the thought.

 

Peter shivered at the sensation of the silk under him. It was cold, and he arched his body away from it, unable to get far as the older man pinned him to the bed, pushing his hips down with his large strong hands.

 

“What are you…?” Peter questioned in a moment of fear. The man hovered over him, before moving down his body, peppering wet kisses over his chest, his stomach, his navel.. Peter’s thoughts short circuited as the man’s mouth suddenly engulfed him, hips giving an abortive jerk forward at the feeling of wet heat.

 

Yondu hadn't given a blowjob in years - probably since he was the boy's age - but what he lacked in practice he made up for in enthusiasm. It took him several tries before he could take the entire length in, swallowing him down with a low groan. The boy was bigger than Yondu, maybe seven inches and girthy, and Yondu couldn't remember the last time he'd wanted to taste a cock this badly. He reached down to press once at his own achingly hard length, telling himself to calm down.

 

 “Holy…. Lord!” Peter threaded his hand in the man’s short hair. Peter had already been hard, but the man’s mouth pushed him closer. When was the last time someone had done something solely for him in the bedroom? Clients didn’t come to him to give him pleasure. This was alien and so perfect and Peter was burning alive from the heat of it.

 

“Wait. If you don’t… stop… gonna… gonna…” Peter tried to warn. In return, the man only sucked harder, hollowing out his cheeks. His tongue worked away at the vein on the underside of Peter's cock. Peter's body tensed, and he was coming. He arched off the bed, one hand in the sheet, the other holding the man’s head.

 

It took Peter almost a minute to recover. His breath was coming in spurts,  his chest heaving, but he didn’t get a chance. The older man slithered his away up his body, moving to take Peter's breath away with kisses. Peter moaned, able to taste himself on the other man’s tongue.

 

“Shit! I didn't wear a condom!” Peter pulled away from  the man terrified, but the other only smirked, kissing him again.

 

“I'm clean. You?”

 

“Yes.” Peter got tested once a quarter, just to make sure.

 

“What do we have to worry about then?” Yondu didn’t miss the look that flashed across the man’s face. “Don’t worry, boy. I ain't going to make you do nothin’ you don’t want. We can use protection, no harm in that.” Yondu leaned over kissing the boy once more, slower, more passionately.

 

Peter drank up the man’s affection. Happy, thinking that if he truly wanted to stop, the man would let him, but he didn’t want to stop. There had been many times when he would have given anything to stop, put on his clothes and never go back. In that moment, the man looking over him, kissing him softly, there was absolutely no place he’d rather be.

 

Niggling in the back of his mind was the reminder that he was still a whore, that he was getting paid for this. Deep down he knew it would change, that the light touches and soft caresses he wanted to drink up forever were all part of his job. This wasn't his life; he didn't get to be loved, held, or cuddled.

 

No.

 

He was a thing to be fucked and used; he knew that. Still, there was no harm in pretending every once in awhile, and so he pushed the thoughts aside and drank up the soft touches and warm words while he could.

 

“What about you?” Peter questioned.

 

“What about me?” The older man questioned. He knelt between Peter’s legs, balancing on one arm, while the other caressed Peter’s face. 

 

“Why do you still get to be in clothes?” Peter asked quickly, his hands already unbuttoning Yondu’s shirt.

 

The older man smirked, stealing one last kiss before sitting up.

 

It only took Yondu a couple of seconds to get out of his clothes. He threw them in the corner with no real care.

 

Peter had noticed the scars last time; they ran all along his torso and onto his back. Several of them looked like bullet wounds. But Peter didn’t ask questions. It wasn’t his place. After all, he had his own scars to bear. He turned his attention to other aspects of the man.

 

He was hard, and his cock was red. Peter licked his lips as he saw it. It wasn't as big or wide as his own, but it was still bigger than some of Peter’s other clients. Just seeing it made Peter's soft cock jump. He moaned.

 

Yondu smirked as he leaned over the boy, bare skin sliding past one another. He drank up the desperate sound the boy made.

 

“Are you going to fuck me?” The boy asked as they pulled apart for air. The words sounded so dirty, wrong coming from the boy’s lips.

 

“No,” Yondu clarified, their foreheads resting together.

 

“No?” Peter questioned confused. The lust was gone from his eyes, his body tense.

 

“No, I'm not going to fuck you.” Yondu brushed their noses together, amused as the boy chased after him with his lips. “You're going to fuck me.”

 

“What?!” Peter caught his breath. He must have heard wrong.

 

“You're going to fuck me. Make me come on your cock. Been thinkin’ about it since I first saw you. Want to feel you, boy.” Yondu's hand wound down the boy’s body, stroking his half hardness, admiring the virility of youth.

 

“Please,” Peter whimpered. His brain had stopped working, just the thought of what it would be like to be inside the man made him light headed. Strong arms pulled him, shifted so he looked down on the older man. This time, legs wrapped around his hips. He ground his hips forward, drawing moans from the man. He was already so close again.

 

“Tell me your name,” Peter ordered. The words slipped out of this mouth before he could catch them. Below him, the man froze. Peter wondered if he had done something wrong from the way the man looked up at him.

 

“Yondu,” the older man answered after a silent hesitation. “You gotta name? Or is Starlord it?”

 

Peter hesitated.  He had never told a client his name before. The look on the man face was pleading.

 

“Peter. My name's Peter.” A hand at the back of his neck crashed their lips together.

 

“Peter,” Yondu whispered it between them, like a prayer. “Fuck me, Peter.” He locked their hands together; and when Peter pulled away, a condom lay in his palm. He kissed the man quickly.

 

He wiggled his way down the man's body, kissing and licking over his scarred skin. When he reached his destination, he nipped at his hip bone, soothing it with a soft kiss before moving and taking his cock down in one swallow. The taste gave him pause; he always insisted on condoms with clients. Still, this was nice, and Yondu had taken all of him down without letting a single drop escape.

 

This was the least he could do.

 

 Above him, Yondu hissed. Peter worked the man quickly, running his hand along the seam of the man’s cheeks. He dipped a finger inside, moaning as he was met with warm, wet heat. The man was already stretched. Yondu moaned, his hand resting in Peter's hair.  He could tell the other man was close. He worked quickly, adding a second, third, and fourth finger into the mix, slowing whenever he felt resistance.

 

“Boy, if you don’t stop, the fun’s gonna be over before it starts.” Yondu tugged lightly at the boy’s hair, to catch his attention.

 

Peter pulled off him with a POP, smirking as he did so. Yondu glared at him, but there was no weight behind it. Peter adjusted, hovering over the man to kiss him.

 

“Come on, boy,” Yondu whined. The boy was so close, yet so far away. “Please.”

 

Peter moaned at the pleasing sound of the man’s voice. Peter snatched one last kiss before pulling away.

 

“How do you want to…?” He questioned.

 

“Just like this.” Yondu tightened his legs around the boy’s hips.

 

Peter smirked. He ripped open the condom and slid it on. He hissed at the sensation.

 

Below him, Yondu watched, amused.

 

It was a slow pressure as the boy slid forward - a pressure Yondu wasn't used to. He had bottomed before but not for any years. Peter moved slowly, leaning over to capture his nipple between his teeth. The sensation caused Yondu to arch off the bed, his attention turning from the pressure building inside him. Peter ravaged his skin with nips and kisses until he was seated inside the other man.

 

“Are you alright?” Peter asked as he settled. He could see the discomfort on the old man’s face. He brushed their noses together, hoping to reassure him. He didn’t miss the way Yondu’s erection flagged.

 

Yondu let out a shaky breath. The pain was minimal but still there. He knew he needed to relax, focus on something else.  He distracted himself by capture the man’s lips with his.

 

Peter’s first thrust was shallow. He didn’t want to hurt the other, but he couldn't stop himself. The man below him was too tight and warm, and Peter’s body was taking over. Yondu hissed, grabbing his shoulder tightly. Peter froze.

 

“We can stop. It's okay. I don’t… I don’t want to hurt you.” Peter kissed the man’s chest. Yondu chuckled.

 

“Nah. Nah. Just need a minute… been… been a time since I've done this.” Yondu shifted under the man, hssing in a pain as he did.

 

“Here.” Peter wound his hand down the man’s body, finding his half hard cock. Peter stroked him with a firm grip.

 

The faces that Yondu made were almost enough to make Peter come. He was fully erect now. His lips were swollen from where he bit them. Peter watched, aroused from where he supported himself with one hand as the man pressed his lips together to suppress a moan.

 

“I want to hear you; no more hiding it. I want everyone to know what I do to you. Let me hear you,” Peter ordered. He squeezed the organ in his hand, bringing a loud moan from the man below him. Peter smirked. On his next downward stroke, he gave a gentle thrust forward. He was rewarded with another loud moan. Both his thrusts and strokes became quicker, as they lost themselves in the feeling of each other.

 

“Peter!” Yondu screamed into the silence of the room as the boy found his prostate.

 

Peter smirked, focusing his attention on that spot inside the man. His thrusts became erratic as he got closer, but he continued stroking the man.

 

“Close. So, close.” Peter warned. He leaned forward and captured the man lips with his. His thumb brushed over the man’s slit, and he felt the warmth of Yondu’s release spilling over his fist. Peter drank up the man’s moans as he came. The vice-like tightness captured Peter; and three strokes later, he followed the man into the whiteness.

 

Strong arms pulled him down as his body relaxed. Light kisses were peppered into his hair. His head tucked under the man's chin. For the first time in years, Peter felt safe.  Slowly, their breathing evened out as they lay tangled together.

 

“That was….” Peter don't couldn't quite find the words. Nothing had felt like that before. Above him, the other man hummed his agreement. Peter grew more uncomfortable the longer they lay together, and it wasn't just because of the drying cum between them. The man had gotten what he wanted.

 

 

Peter knew what came next.

 

“I can hear you thinkin’ boy,” Yondu spoke up after several minutes of silence.

 

“I should probably go…”

 

“Tired of me already?” the older man teased. The boy in his arms stiffened.

 

Unable to see the other man's face, Peter grew worried that he had done something wrong, and the ramifications for his actions worried him.

 

Yondu's smile faded as he felt the body against him change.

 

“Now, don't do that.  I was just playing.  You can go if you wanna. I ain’t gonna force you. But I had hoped you’d stay… with me tonight. I got plans for you… things I wanted…” Yondu fell silent, allowing himself to tail off. There was silence for several moments.

 

“What kinda things?” Peter questioned. Above him Yondu smiled.

 

The bath was nice. It was warm and relaxed Peter's sore muscles. He sat between Yondu’s legs, letting the older man care for him. Strong hands massaged his scalp. Light kisses ran along his neck and shoulders. Peter couldn't remember the last time someone had cared for him so sweetly. However, his own pleasure diminished each time he saw the grimace pass Yondu’s face.

 

“You could have told me to stop. I won't have, I swear. I know, I've… Let’s just say, I know what it’s like… when it's too much… if you would have asked… all you had to do was tell me.” Peter held tightly to the arms that wrapped around him.

 

“Don’t you worry about that. You did just fine… just what I needed.” Yondu kissed his hair. Yondu hated knowing that the man had experienced such pain. They stayed in the tub until the water was cold and the bubbles were gone. Neither had much to stay, choosing instead to bask in the connection between them.

 

“Come on, boy.” Yondu motioned the boy up as he slipped from the tub. Peter followed. Yondu batted his hand way when Peter grabbed for his towel. Instead he patted the boy dry himself and wrapped him in the fluffy towel.

 

 

Together they sprawled in the bed, freshly washed and relaxed. Peter was tucked against the man’s chest. Yondu’s bare skin warmed the silk that rested around his waist. It was nice, but not what Peter wanted.

 

“Can I…” Peter began but fell short. He tightened his arms around the man, fearing he might lose the warmth that held him so close. Yondu only held him tighter.

 

“Speak up, boy. Ain’t gotta be afraid of me.” Yondu assured the other by interlocking their fingers together.

 

It was a very intimate act that made Peter's stomach flip-flop. It took several minutes before he found his voice again. All the while, Yondu waited patiently.

 

“Can I… Can I be the big spoon?” Peter finally asked. His heart ready for rejection. He tried not to be disappointed as Yondu pulled away. He shouldn't be surprised that someone like Yondu would be insulted at such a belittling suggestion. Peter sat up, ready to leave.

 

“Where you goin', Boy?” Yondu called after him confused. He wasn't above being the little spoon. Even he needed to be held sometimes. Peter looked back at him confused, rejection written on his face. Yondu understood. “I’m tired. Let’s get some sleep.”

 

Yondu yawned. He grabbed the boy’s arm, pulling him back down into the covers. He tucked the arm around his waist, and interlocked their fingers. He settled against the pillow as the man behind him did the same. Yondu fell asleep to the feeling of light kisses along his neck.


	5. Chapter 5

His buzzing phone is what woke Yondu from his sleep. Light bled in through the window, around the curtains (which he had remembered to close). He groaned as he shifted to get the device from where it lay on the nightstand. His body ached. He hadn't bottomed in years. He tried not to let the pain show, not wanting Peter to feel like it was his fault that Yondu was in discomfort. He was happily surprised when he caught a glimpse at the time (10:04). Yondu couldn't remember the last time he slept so late.

 

 

His smile faded as he read Kraglin's message.

 

I have news. Need to talk

 

Yondu frowned and replied.

 

Fine. Guestroom.

 

Yondu turned his attention to the boy beside him. Peter was spread across the bed. He must have felt safe enough to sprawl instead of staying curled in a protective ball. That thought made Yondu's stomach flip-flop. He smiled and untangled his legs from where they twisted with the skinny limbs of the boy.

 

"Hmm?" Peter asked, sleepy and only half awake.

 

"Hey," Yondu tried to keep his voice soft, but it echoed in the quiet room. "I got some business I gotta attend to, so you go back to sleep now."

 

Soft hands brushed the curls from the younger man's face. The bruising had only increased, causing the boy's eyes to darken. Yondu looked at it unamused. Peter didn't seem to notice.

 

"M'kay." He yawned, burying his face back into the pillow. Yondu smiled but groaned as he stood. He wobbled before his legs held him. It would be a time before he was able to bottom again. His body felt loose as he grabbed his blue robe off the hook. It was soft and comfortable as he draped it over his shoulders. The pain in his body was a welcome one as he headed for the door.

 

He wasn't surprised that Kraglin was already waiting for him. He carried a tray of food with a large cup of coffee. Yondu snatched it from the tray before motioning him inside. He extended the tablet to the older man. Yondu looked at it confused.

 

"Watch." Kraglin tapped the screen twice, and the video began to play.

 

It took Yondu a moment to understand what he was seeing. The video showed the back of a building, with little to nothing happening. He was going to be angry, furious as to why Kraglin disturbed his sleep, but the moment out of the corner of his eyes caught his attention. The man on the video's hips thrust forward for several moments before he pulled away and zipped himself up in his slacks. The man's arm wound back, before impacting hard against something Yondu couldn't see. He exited the alleyway. Yondu remained confused.

 

 

His stomach dropped as he watched Peter exit the same alleyway, almost a minute later.

 

“Who is he?" Yondu asked angrily. He understood why Kraglin had disturbed him.

 

“Arthur Douglas. He's a lawyer with the Nova Prime law firm.”

 

“And?” Yondu questioned.

 

Kraglin took back the tablet, flipping through the tabs.

 

“And we won’t have to worry about him anymore.” Kraglin passed back the device.

 

It was oddly satisfying to watch the large man get beaten. It was payback, a petty action Yondu felt no sympathy watching. It made him happy, knowing that the man would never threaten to hurt Peter again. 

 

“Good.” Yondu passed the man back the device.

 

Kraglin flipped through several tabs before passing it back to the man.

 

“We got other business to discuss.” Yondu let or a long sigh. Of Course.

 

Peter's body startled him awake. His heart raced as he was unable to recognize the room. He wanted to run. He threw off the covers, falling from the bed. As he lay on the wooden floor, staring up at the high ceiling, he slowly remembered the night before - the kisses and touches. The way the older man felt so tight around him. Peter couldn’t help but smile as he felt the soft silk of the boxers around him. They were the nicest thing anyone had even gotten him.

 

He looked around confused. Yondu was nowhere in sight. Peter focused and could remember the older man’s soft words. No one had ever left Peter alone in their room before. Most of the time, they would kick him out not trusting someone like him to be alone with their belongings.

 

He groaned as he pulled himself up. The bed was high. It had been a long way to the ground. But he felt recharged and relaxed after such a good night. Peter wished they were more common. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t last. Soon, he would have to get back to real life. With a sigh, he figured that time was now. He rounded up his clothes, reluctant to remove the silk boxers. They would fit under his trousers anyway.

 

“There seems to be a disruption in…” Kraglin was explaining, but both men’s attention turned to the bedroom door where the boy stood.

 

“Oh… Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt… I was just gonna… I’ll just…” Peter stood frozen in the doorway.

 

Yondu sat on the couch, and the man who had picked him up from the corner was in the chair across from him. Their conversation looked serious. Peter tried to duck back into the room before he disrupted the men's conversations. It didn’t work.

 

“No. No. Come on. Kraglin brought breakfast. Sit down and eat.”

 

Yondu’s words were close enough to an order that Peter wasn’t willing to disobey. He walked quickly over to the couch, and sat beside the man.

 

“How'd you sleep?” Yondu asked as he dished the boy up a plate of eggs and fruit.

 

“Fine. It was good… best sleep I’ve gotten in a long time. Thank you.” Peter wasn’t going to argue as the man passed him the plate. He started eating, conscious of the eyes that watched him.

 

“As I was sayin’, there seems to be a disruption in the supply chain. We're finding new products. It’s got a new logo on it.” Kraglin passed the tablet to the older man. “We don’t know what they are called, or where…”

 

“Those are Starhawks.” Peter cut in quickly around a mouth full of food. The two looked at him confused. He suddenly felt self-conscious and turned his attention to his plate. “Sorry, I shouldn't have been lookin'.”

 

“You said you were clean, boy.” Yondu looked at him angrily. “You lying to me?”

 

“No! I swear I ain’t on anything.”

 

“How do you know what these are then?” Kraglin questioned.

 

“There’s a guy. He started selling on my street. I didn’t… But some of the others... I saw that symbol on the bags they get.”

 

“How long ago did he start sellin'?”

 

“A month… maybe two. There was a different guy… I haven’t seen him for a while.”

 

“The other guy, what did his symbol look like?”

 

“Maybe like a shield, that had spikes at the top.” The other two men shared a look. Peter looked between them confused. “Did I… Did I do something wrong?”

 

“No. No. You’ve been very helpful. The guy assigned to your area was one of ours… he went missing under… suspicious circumstances. If I take you there, could you point him out?”

 

“Yes. He normally comes by at 2:00 PM.”

 

“Good. Finish your breakfast. We got work to do.” Peter looked after the two confused. They were quickly to the door talking in hushed tones. Kraglin left, and Yondu closed the door after him.

 

“I'm sorry,” Peter quickly spat. Guilt and fear worried the corner of his eyes. He shouldn't have intervened. It wasn't his business after all.  “I didn’t mean to… I shouldn't have…”

 

“Hey,” Yondu’s hand was light as it caressed his face. He silenced the boy's rambles with a finger to his lips. “You did good, boy. We’ve been trying to figure out who’s been moving in on our territory. We didn't know a name until now. So, thank you.” He leaned over and kissed the boy. It was slow and soft and took Peter's breath away.

 

“We could use your help, though. To figure out who the leader is… if you’re willing?”

 

“Who do you want me to sleep with?” Peter offered without a hesitation. Yondu made a face.

 

“No one. The opposite, actually. I want you to go to the dealer on your street. Tell him you want out of the sex game and into the drug game. Thinkin’ he might take you to the boss to get evaluated.”

 

“Isn’t that gonna be dangerous?” Peter asked unable to meet the man's eye.

 

“Don’t you worry about that, we'll put a tracker on you, we’ll know where you are. We’ll follow you. Keep you safe.” Yondu tipped the boy’s chin, brushing their noses together. “We need you on this one. All my men, their faces are known. But you're…”

 

“A whore.” Peter finished the man’s thought. He tried not to sound disappointed. Peter knew what he was good for. The hand on his chin was almost painful, and the look in the man’s eye was dangerous. Peter swallowed, hard.

 

“You don’t get to call yourself that no more. I don’t care what others have said. You ain’t some stupid slut. You’re smart and beautiful, and that’s why the dealer will take you in. That face of yours can sell a lot more than sex. Got it?” Yondu wanted to hurt anyone who made the boy think so little of himself. There was a long minute before Peter nodded his understanding. Yondu could tell he wasn’t convinced.

 

“From now on, you're my boy. You’re under my protection. You can stay here, under my roof. You’ll be my kin. I'll get you a job, no more sellin’. You’ll get a room, all to yourself. You'll be safe here.” Yondu cupped his face, kissing him softly.

 

Peter wanted to argue. He knew, deep down, that Yondu didn’t want him. No one wanted him. Everyone just used him and sent him on his way. The promises Yondu made were cruel, and Peter felt the crashing of reality on him. Yondu would say whatever he needed to get close to the Starhawk. Peter pulled away from the kiss.

 

“Come on.” Yondu interlocked his fingers with the boys, pulling him to his feet.

 

He led them through the bedroom and into the shower. Yondu’s touches were light as he washed the boy, massaging the soap into the boy’s curls. Yondu’s content humming and soft caresses fell still and silent as he noticed the silent tremor of the boy’s body.

 

“Hey, talk to me,” Yondu ordered lightly. “I can’t understand what’s wrong if you don’t tell me. I ain’t no mind reader.” He tried to lighten the mood. His smile faded as the boy’s shoulders began to shake. “Pete? Peter? Hey, talk to me. What's wrong?”

 

He turned the boy in his arms, concerned as he saw the tears mixed with the water. His heart stopped.

 

“Hey. Hey, now. What’s wrong?” He pulled the boy into his arms, but Peter pulled away. Yondu let him go. Peter retreated to the other side of the shower. “Tell me what going on,” Yondu ordered.

 

“Why would you lie? Why would you say such things? I know what you want from me. You want sex and Starhawk, nothin’ more. So why lie? Why let me think that you actually care about me? Gettin’ my hopes up… just to have them crushed when you get what you want and send me back to that… That horrible world… horrible life. Why?” Peter stammered, pain filling his chest as he recalled such nice words from the man. It was like a knife in the gut knowing the man was just telling what he wanted to hear.

 

“I don’t lie. I wasn’t lying! I ain't lying! I sent Kraglin to get you some new clothes and get your room all set up. I'm not sending you back. Ever. You're never goin’ back, not if you don’t wanna. You can stay here as long as you want. I want you to be safe here.” Yondu hated the look on the boy’s face. It gutted him. More than anything he wanted to pull the boy into his arms and hold him forever. Yet each time he shifted, the boy flinched away from him.

 

“If I’m free of that life, why did you make me shower with you?” Peter asked defeated.

 

It was like a slap in Yondu’s face. In truth, he wanted to take care of the boy, to wash and clean him. He had no other intentions, besides his need to care for him. The boy meant so much to him; he wanted to take care of him. He never thought that the boy wouldn’t return his affection. It dawned on him at that moment; this was the boy's livelihood, not his choice. If he were given the option, he wouldn’t be seen by anyone.

 

“I didn’t mean it that way. I wanted… I want…” Yondu fell silent. He could justify his actions.

 

Instead, he slipped out of the shower, leaving the boy alone. He towelled off quickly, and threw a robe over his shoulders. He exited to the sitting area, allowing the boy his privacy. The knock on the door didn’t surprise him. Kraglin passed him a bag of clothing. He crooked an eyebrow at the defeated look on his Captain's face. Yondu brushed him off and closed the door on him.

 

He looked the outfits over, approving of everything Kraglin had bought. The quality was nice but not overly expensive. It would fit Peter’s story if the boy still agreed to help them. He ditched the clothes on the bed, scurrying out of the room when he heard the shower shut off.  Yondu turned his attention from the tablet as the bedroom door opened. Peter stood awkward, feeling out of place.

 

“Do you like them?”

 

Peter adjusted in his new clothes. The jeans weren’t baggy, but they didn’t fit as tight as his normal jeans. The shirt was tight, but he could take a full breath without worrying about popping the seams. The shoes didn't slip when he walked, and his toes didn’t fall out the side. He didn’t know how to feel.

 

“They're… nice. Thank you.” Peter shifted, uncomfortably. His actions in the shower had been out of line. Yondu was a client, and the client was always right. “I’m sorry, about earlier, in the shower. I shouldn’t have…”

 

“I shouldn’t have. That was my fault. You're free to make your own choices now, which includes who you shower and sleep with. I ain't gonna assume you’ll want to continue to be with me. I’m old and broken. Probably not your type. Just know… I've never... never…” Yondu shifted, uncomfortable talking about this. Feelings were hard when you were supposed to be cold all the time. “I just want you safe. I don’t care if it’s in my bed, or just under my roof. You’ve got a home here, Peter.”

 

“Thank you.” Peter didn't know what more to say. The man was distinctly older than him, but he wasn't unattractive. He was rough but sweet. Peter liked the idea of living in a mansion, but he liked the idea of choosing even more. The look on the man's face said he had so much more to say. Instead, they stayed silent for several moments. “What… what do you need to me to do? For Starhawk and all?”

 

 

Hesitantly, Peter sat on the couch beside Yondu.

 

“You don't gotta do nothin'. I’ve got others that can go.”

 

“But I want to go… to help you… and the others. Just tell me what you need.” Peter sounded determined.

 

Yondu smiled. He knew the boy could do this.


	6. Chapter 6

Peter tried not to fidget as he sat in the SUV. Beside him, Yondu and Kraglin worked out the final bugs in the plan. They would drop Peter off, he would convince the dealer to take him to his Captain, Yondu and the other Ravagers would follow them, and finally figure out who was invading their territory. Sounded easy enough, but Peter was still nervous.

 

“Hey,” a gruff voice caught his attention. The hand that wound into his was a light reassurance. He didn’t pull away. Yondu gave him a light smile, squeezing their hand together. “I ain’t gonna let nothin’ happen to you. Promise.”

 

Peter gave him a forced smile. More than anything, Yondu wanted to pull the man into a kiss, hoping to pour all this affections and concern into that one motion. But he didn’t. Peter was free of that life. The next time they kissed, he wanted it to be Peter’s choice.

 

“Okay.” Peter gave the man's hand one last squeeze before releasing it. He was quickly out of the car. It drove away, leaving Peter alone on the corner. Now, they waited.

 

“Starlord! Where have you… Jesus! What happened?!” Gamora questioned as she approached him. The purple had blossomed across his face, into his eye. The swelling had gone down, thanks to some ibuprofen and a cold pack Yondu insisted he use, but the bruising would still last for a couple weeks.

 

“It's nothin'.” Peter pulled from the hand that tried to examine him. “Just an over excited client.”

 

“Do you need to go to the clinic?” she questioned, concerned. If the man had done that much damage to the boy’s face, she didn’t want to think of the rest of him. Especially if Peter had been with him all night.

 

“Nah. Wasn’t the same client. The client last night was…” Peter didn’t know to put it into words; the feelings that fluttered in his stomach. Last night had been magic. He had never felt that way for anyone before. Now the man offered him freedom, and Peter was going to take it. “… It was worth it. I don’t need the clinic. I need to know if the Starhawk dealer is here yet.”

 

“You promise you wouldn’t!” Gamora looked horrified. She hadn’t been able to save Nebula; she wasn’t going to let Peter get hooked also.

 

“They’re not for me. Ego… If I come back with something, maybe he'll be less angry,” Peter lied. He felt guilty, but he needed to know.

 

Gamora hesitated, studying him.

 

“He’s around the back.” She pointed to the other side of the building.

 

“Perfect, thank you!” Peter was quickly away, leaving Gamora behind.

 

 The man was dressed in baggy clothes and had a shifty look about him. He shook hands with a woman in a quick handoff. If Peter weren’t paying attention, he would have missed the exchange of the small bag of drugs. The client was quickly away, leaving the dealer behind to lean against the wall, a sucker in his mouth.

 

Peter didn’t hesitate as he approached the man, hoping his fear was hidden behind his stony expression. The man turned his attention to Peter, his expression just as unreadable as the other. He raised an eyebrow as he lowered his aviators, glaring over the brim at Peter.

 

“What happened to you?” The dealer questioned.

 

“Client got a little rough,” Peter explained as he leaned beside the man on the wall.

 

“Need something to dull the pain? First time’s on the house,” the man offered, but his face dropped as his hand slipped into his pocket, coming up short.

 

“You see, what I need is out of my line of work and into yours,” Peter said easily, pushing from the wall.

 

“What makes you think that’s gonna happen?” the man questioned, his attention only half on Peter, the other half occupied with searching the ground, hoping he had just dropped his supply. Peter's whistle caught the man’s attention; he looked up to see Peter holding several small bags of pills. Each bag had the Starhawk logo on it. The man looked at him aghast.

 

“How…?” the dealer questioned, confused. He moved forward, towards Peter.

 

“Stop,” Peter warned, lowering the drugs in his hand toward the ground.

 

The dealer noticed the puddle at Peter's feet. If the boy dropped them, they would be ruined. Some might survive being submerged in water, but the small bags didn’t seal well, and most of the product would be lost. This alley was only his second of seven stops. If he lost the product now, he would be very short on his quota. His Captain would not be happy. So, he returned to the other side of the alleyway, plastered against the wall.

 

“I got a lot more talents than you give me credit for. So, I want a meeting with your Captain, to prove my worth. Either take me to him or explain how you lost a whole day’s worth of product.” Peter dangled the bags above the puddle once more.

 

“Alright. Alright. I'll take you. Just give them back!”

 

“Do I look like I was born yesterday? No, you’ll get the product back when I see your Captain.” Peter smirked at the defeated look on the dealer’s face.

 

“Fine! Let’s go.” The dealer was off the wall and down the alley with Peter at his heels.

 

They headed south, away from the city. Peter tried not to let his nervousness show. He hoped Yondu was following, but he didn’t see the headlights of the SUV as they drove. They continued for a solid hour. Peter tried to memorize the route, but soon they entered a neighborhood, and Peter was lost. They finally came to a tall gate that Peter thought  looked like the gate at Yondu's place. For a split second, he was confused. The dealer talked quickly with the guard before the gate opened, and they were allowed in. Peter stared in awe as they approached the large house.

 

“Nice place, huh?” The dealer caught Peter's attention.

 

“Yeah, I guess.” Peter shrugged only looking half interested. His attention taken by the guards that approached the car, more specifically, the large guns they carried.

 

“These guys are going to take you to see the Captain. We made a deal, now ante up on your end.”

 

In truth, Peter wanted to spill the pills on the ground and crush them, but he was a man of his word. He quickly passed the man his stack of bags. The man snatched them back.

 

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Peter smirked as he exited the car.

 

“It's your funeral,” the dealer yelled out the window as he skidded away.

 

Peter watched him, fear slipping into his eyes. When he turned back to the guards, his face was stone once more. “After you.” He gestured to the guards. They hesitated before heading up the steps.

 

Peter was surprised at the similarities between Yondu's place and this. The entranceway held a large chandelier and two staircases. Peter followed the men up the left steps. He swallowed hard, worried as he followed them through a maze of hallways. They finally stopped at a doorway. They opened the door without knocking, motioning Peter in. He hesitated before entering.

 

The room was an office. Books lined one wall, a large window the other. A desk sat in the middle of the room, a man behind it. His eyes were dark, set below a heavy brow. His once black hair was streaked with gray as it swooped to the left.  He removed his square pair of glasses as he looked from his paperwork up to Peter. There was an intensity in his eyes that made Peter uncomfortable.

 

“So, you’re the one who stole my product, and blackmailed one of my men?” he questioned, his voice booming. It filled the silence of the office.

 

“I don’t like the word ‘blackmailed’. I prefer ‘extorted’. The X makes it sound fancy.” Peter smirked, using sarcasm to hide the fear.

 

“You go a mouth on you. Don’t ya boy?” The man questioned and his  voice was venom smooth.

 

Peter didn’t understand why being called ‘boy’ by the man bothered him so much. It never bothered him when Yondu said it.

 

“I'm not a boy,” Peter bit back. The man smirked.

 

“Got some spunk, I’ll give you that. But I’m done playing games. I know what you are, and why you are here.”

 

“I’m here because I want a job. I'd be the best dealer you got. I can make you good money.”

 

“Oh, you can, and you will.  But not dealing.” The man stood from the chair. He was shorter than Peter but bulkier. His shoulders were twice the width of Peter. The younger man tried and failed to stand tall, survival instincts telling him he needed to submit or die. He lowered his gaze, feeling the man’s smirk.

 

“You must be a good whore, for him to call on you twice.” Peter was confused until the photos drifted to the floor before him. He quickly snatched them up, examining them.

 

They were pictures of him, getting into the black SUV, Peter could see Kraglin in the back seat. The next one was the vehicle at the gates of the mansion. Then the vehicle at the steps of the porch, and finally Peter entering the large doors. The photo looked as if it had been taken from a long distance away.

 

“You were spying on me?” Peter questioned confused.

 

 The man, now leaning against his desk, cocked an eyebrow at him.

 

“You ain’t that important, boy.”

 

Peter grit his teeth at the nickname.

 

“You were following Kraglin?” Peter questioned.

 

“Maybe you aren’t that smart. Good thing you're pretty.” The man huffed out a laugh. Peter hated the sound.

 

“You have the mansion under surveillance.”

 

“Well, maybe there is hope for you after all.” The man smirked and threw several more photos on the ground. Peter collected them.

 

They were from that morning as he, Yondu, and Kraglin got in the black SUV. Yondu’s hand was on the small of Peter’s back as he held the door open. Peter remember that it had made him blush. Fear set in as he realized what was happening. The man knew Peter worked for Yondu. The dealer let him take the drugs and allowed himself to be forced into taking Peter to the mansion.

 

 

It was a trap!

 

 

Peter bolted for the door. A strong hand on the back of his neck stopped him. The man was strong; and even as he thrashed about, Peter was no match.

 

“I should be thanking you boy. Without you it would have taken much more to get the great Ravager Captain here. You made it easy, so easy. What did he tell you, to get you to go on such a suicide mission? Did he say he cared about you? Did he tell you he would keep you safe? Did he confess that he loved you?” The man questioned. His voice was like knives in Peter’s gut.

 

Yondu promised to keep him safe. Yondu said he cared about him. Was it all lies? Just words so Yondu could get what he wanted?

 

“No.” Peter refused to believe the man's lies. Yondu was the best thing to ever happen to Peter.

 

Behind him, the man chuckled. A sharp kick to the back of his leg sent Peter stumbling to his knees. He landed hard, the hand on his neck painfully tight, it shifted around his neck, just below his Adam's apple. He held tightly, allowed Peter only hiccup breaths. The man pressed his body flush against Peter.

 

“Let me tell you the truth: Yondu Udonta doesn't care about you. He doesn’t care about anyone but himself.” The man's voice was like gravel as it whispered in Peter’s ear. His breath smelled of bourbon. Peter tried to defend himself, but the man easily caught both his wrist in one of his bear-like paws.

 

“No,” Peter croaked.

 

“You know, in the last year we've been watching him, you are the only one that’s come back. So, what makes you so special? Is it your lips? They are awfully pretty. Wonder what they’d look like wrapped around my…”

 

The man didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence. The door to the office swung open. Yondu and Kraglin stood before it, guns at the ready.

 

“If it isn’t my old friend.” The man smirked. His hand tightened around Peter’s neck. Peter felt his face heating up, and his vision began to blur.

 

“Well, I'll be damned, Stakar Ogord. Is that you? Didn’t I already kill you once?” Yondu questioned. He took no notice of the firefight raging downstairs.

 

“You certainly tried and failed.” Stakar hid behind Peter, using the boy as a shield.

 

“I thought you were better than that, hiding behind an innocent boy,” Yondu challenged. He started into the room but stopped as he saw the man’s hand tighten around the boy’s neck. Peter’s face was turning purple.

 

“He ain’t no innocent boy, we both know that. Once I kill you, he'll be mine. He’ll look good strapped to my bed. How much you think I can charge for him?” Stakar asked, with a sinister smile. He didn’t miss how Yondu tightened his grip on his gold trimmed pistol. “Maybe I won’t kill ya. I'll keep you alive... tie you up too, make you watch instead. Do you think he’ll cry? Will you even be able to look at him anymore? You won’t be able to do nothin’ but watch as we fuck the whore you love.”

 

 

Stakar’s words were harsh, cold.

 

Peter tried to ignore him, tried not to listen to the things being said about him. When Stakar spoke so close to his ear, he couldn’t stop himself from hearing them. The tears that streamed down his face weren’t just from lack of oxygen. Stakar laughed. It was dark and bitter.

 

“And it’s all because of you. All his pain, anguish and torture, are going to be because you lied to him. You said you would protect him, but you can’t. You couldn’t protect me, or him, or any of the others. You’ve failed, Udonta.”

 

“Peter.” Yondu's voice sounded broken. Peter tried to look at him, but he couldn’t. “It’s gonna be okay. You remember what I told you? I promised I wouldn’t let anything’ happen to you. And you know I don’t lie. When this is all over, we're gonna go home, and you're gonna be safe. I promise.”

 

Peter didn’t care if the man was lying or not. His words were all he wanted to hear at that moment. He tried to nod his understanding but couldn’t move his head. He hoped Yondu wasn’t lying because fear was taking over as his vision whited out.

 

“How touching,” Stakar smirked. He shifted as he supported the unconscious boy’s weight. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

 

Yondu aimed and pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the man's shoulder, knocking him back. He didn’t give Stakar a chance to recover. The next pierced between his eyes. Yondu paid little mind to the dead body, his attention turning to Peter.

 

“Starlord! Peter. Talk to me, boy.” Yondu pulled the boy into his lap. He tapped the boy’s cheek lightly, slowly bringing him back. Peter coughed to life. “There you are.” He smiled as the boy’s eyes finally focused on him.

 

“Hi.” Peter’s voice was scratchy. He couldn’t muster up any other words.

 

“Hello, boy.” Yondu smiled. He brushed the tears from the man’s eyes.

 

Peter didn’t miss the way his stomach flip-flopped when the man called him that. A title that sounded so wrong coming from Stakar, meant so much coming from Yondu.

 

“I’m glad you weren’t lyin’.” Peter clung to the arm that held him. His body shook.

 

“I don’t lie. Never lie to you.” Yondu held him, tightly. He felt the boy’s body shake as he cried. “I got ya.” He adjusted the boy, holding him close and tucked his heading under his chin.

 

Peter cried for several minutes, while Yondu rocked him slowly. They both paid little attention the battle raging downstairs. Eventually, Peter’s tears ran dry.

 

“It was a trap. He knew you were coming… he knew about us.” Peter clung to the man. “I'm sorry. I led you right into his trap.”

 

“Ssshhh.” Yondu hushed, holding him tightly. He rocked them slowly. “Don’t you ever apologize again. Not to me, not to anyone. Not anymore,” Yondu ordered as he peppered the boy's forehead with light kisses. He couldn’t help himself. It was a soft reassurance that the boy was still alive.

 

Peter's eyes studied the dead man lying beside them. He didn’t understand why seeing the man dead didn’t bother him. Their attention turned to the door as it opened. Kraglin seemed unfazed as he looked over the scene.

 

“We rounded up the Starhawk crew. We met some resistance, but they’ve been neutralized. We’re waitin’ on your orders of what to do with the survivors.”

 

“How many we lose?” Yondu asked as he held Peter tightly. Peter hid his face in the man's shoulder. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this. Kraglin didn’t seem to care.

 

“Five dead. Ten wounded. Nothing we couldn’t handle.” Yondu hummed, contemplating his next actions. He patted Peter’s shoulder twice, and Peter shifted away. Yondu groaned as he stood. He offered his hand to Peter, helped him to his feet. He didn’t flinch away as Yondu brushed the tears from his cheeks.

 

“Take me to the remaining Starhawk crew,” Yondu ordered. He pushed past his second in command. Kraglin motioned Peter after them. Peter hesitated before following.

 

“He needs you right now,” Kraglin explained quickly, only loud enough for the two of them to hear.

 

 Peter understood. He followed quickly at Yondu’s heels. Kraglin pushed past both to lead the way.

 

The survivors were rounded up in the entrance way. The chandelier lay shattered in pieces. Bullet holes lined the stairway and walls. A large battle had ensued. Peter hesitated, but a strong shove from Kraglin pushing to Yondu's left side. Kraglin stood to his leader’s right. Yondu looked over the balcony at the men.

 

“Starkar is dead,” Yondu announced. The men in the circle mumbled amongst themselves. “You can choose to join him or, here and now, claim your allegiance to the Ravager clan, and you will be spared.”

 

Silence fell over the survivors. Finally, one man stood.

 

“I claim allegiance to the Ravaged clan.” He spoke.

 

Others joined him. Of the survivors, over half swore their allegiance, the others remained seated. With a wave of his hand, the seated men were dragged into the parking lot. Peter flinched each time he heard a gunshot. The newly claimed Ravagers did the same.

 

“Distribute the newcomers. Assign them alongside loyal Clan members.” Yondu ordered. Kraglin was already on his phone, texting orders.

 

“Cleanup crew estimated in four minutes. What do you want to do with the house? Do you want me to call in Arson support?”

 

“That’s up to you, Captain.”

 

“Sir?” Kraglin looked at the older man confused.

 

“I can’t run the northern and southern territories. You’re a good soldier, Kraglin, loyal ‘til the end. I’m giving you control of the southern territories under the Ravager name. We'll split the loyal crew. Think you can handle it?” Yondu challenged with a smirk.

 

“Thank you, sir.” Kraglin smiled. He tapped his chest twice in salute.

 

“You ain’t gonna need that anymore.” Yondu extended his hand for Kraglin's cell phone.

 

Hesitantly, the man surrendered the device. Yondu examined it quickly before passing it to Peter.

 

“What are you…?” Peter questioned taking the device.

 

“You’re my new second. Kraglin will help get you settled. I promised you a better life. Here it is,” Yondu explained with a smile.

 

“I don’t know… I don’t think…” Peter stammered.

 

“Take the job,” Kraglin ordered trying to hide his words behind a cough.

 

Yondu rolled his eyes.

 

“I’ll do my best, Captain,” Peter ordered, tapping his chest twice, mimicking Kraglin.

 

“I want a roster from you in 24 hours, so I know who your takin' and where my ranks will fall short,” Yondu ordered as he started down the steps. Both Kraglin and Peter at his heels.

 

“Yes, sir. Right away Captain,” Kraglin stopped at the open doorway. The large oak door lay on the floor. They had to blow it, to get in the building.

 

“Good Luck, Captain,” Yondu called as he opened the SUV door. He motioned Peter inside, and the boy quickly entered.

 

The remaining Revengers looked at Kraglin cross, but the man only smiled. The SUV drove away once Yondu slammed the door shut. 

 

The ride back to the mansion was silent, Peter’s full attention on the phone before him. He didn’t know what to do. Beside him, Yondu started out the window; his hand gripped tight. He had so much he needed to say, but he couldn’t find the words. After half an hour of silence, Yondu couldn’t take it anymore.

 

“We knew they were watchin’ us. Starhawk had eyes on us for a year or so. Guys were hiding in the bushes, and following our cars. We'd seen them, we knew… We couldn’t… I couldn’t tell you. We didn’t know an exact location. We needed you to get us to their captain.”

 

“I was bait?” Peter tried to swallow past the lump in his throat.

 

“Yes.” Yondu hated what he had done. He had risked the boy’s life, and he hated himself for that. “I'm sorry… So sorry. But you did well. I’m so proud of you. Exactly what we needed. Just know, I… the things he said about you, they were lies. Every word. I’d give anything… anything to protect you.”

 

“Who was he?” Peter asked, with a sniffle.

 

“He was a Ravager, like me… like you. A general. He controlled the southern region of the territory. But he got greedy. I was instructed to take him out. I thought I had. I put two bullets on his chest and pushed him into the bay. I don’t know how, but he survived.”

 

A silence fell over the car once more.

 

“Was everything Starkar said a lie?” Peter questioned finally. He remembered the man’s words like they were burned into his brain.

 

There were something that caught his attention. ‘The whore you love’ The words ran through his brain over and over. Did Yondu love him? Yondu stayed silent for a long moment.

 

“No, he didn’t lie about everything.” Yondu didn’t turn his attention from the window. Starkar had been right. Yondu did love the boy even if he couldn’t get the words out. After what he had done, using the boy as bait, there was no doubt in his mind that Peter wouldn’t reciprocate his feelings. Yondu jumped in surprise as Peter’s cold fingers interlocked with his. He turned his attention to the boy, but Peter’s attention was out the window.

 

“I’m glad he’s dead.” Peter finally spoke up.

 

“Me too.” Yondu agreed, giving the boy’s hand a light squeeze of reassurance. They rode hand-in-hand all the way home.


	7. Epilogue

Running a criminal empire was hard. Yondu Udonta knew firsthand the struggles of keeping the Ravager Clan alive and thriving. When he took power, he didn’t think there would be so much paperwork.

 

 

He pinched the bridge of his nose and returned the glasses to his face. He didn't wear them always, but Peter insisted that the more he did, the fewer headaches he would get. Yondu appeased him, not ready to admit that the younger man was right.

 

He smirked as he read over the paperwork. All their numbers were in the green. They were making a profit, a good profit. It had taken a bit of time to get the Starhawk crew under control. Now, they had all either been converted or eliminated, and the crew was making a pretty penny.

 

Kraglin was a good captain like Yondu had trained him to be. Peter fell into his role as second in command perfectly like Yondu knew he would. There had been a little fussing from some of the Underlings who found it unfair how quickly the newcomer had leveled up. A few sharp glances from their Captains had shut them up.

 

Still, Yondu knew things weren't easy for the boy as he adjusted to his new life. There had been a couple of fights and some insubordination. Moments where Yondu or Kraglin had intervened with barely enough time to stop Peter from being beaten to death. The repercussions for their actions had everyone thinking twice before messing with the kid.

 

Everything became clear when Yondu stood beside Peter at his father's funeral. Without Peter, Ego had quickly perished, overdosing only three weeks after Peter ‘moved out'. Yondu had escorted Peter back to the apartment. He insisted that Peter didn’t need anything. He would want for nothing now. Yondu was more than happy to spoil him, but Peter had insisted. Yondu stood between the man and boy as Peter collected his stuff. Yondu smirked at the boy’s brilliance as he pulled bill after bill from the mattress. Ego watched him, shocked and confused.

 

“Why you little piece of shit!” Ego roared. He was off the couch, lunging at the boy. Yondu stopped him easily, sending the drunk man back to the couch. “That money belongs to me!”

 

“No, it don't! All that money, all those years, it belonged to him. You better be glad he asked me not to, or I’d be taking recompense out on your hide right now,” Yondu warned, but he had promised Peter that he wouldn’t hurt the man. “Come on, boy. Let’s go home.”

 

 Yondu threw his arm over the boy’s shoulder and led him from the apartment.

 

Yondu had Peter’s first suit waiting for him in his room when they returned to the mansion just a little something to help him settle. Yondu made sure the Ravager symbol was embossed on the pocket.

 

 Peter wore it to his father’s funeral only weeks later. Yondu watched him, concerned. The back of his hand brushing against the boy’s reassuringly. Sudden realization dawned on the others as they saw the man hold the crying boy, but none of them were brave enough to comment.

 

That had been months ago, and Yondu still remembered what the boy how said between his tears.

 

“I failed her,” Peter had sobbed. His focus on the gravestone beside the open plot of his father’s. “I promised her I would look out for him, protect him and I failed.”

 

“No. No, you didn’t. He failed you. It wasn’t your responsibility to protect him. You were a child. She shouldn’t have asked that of you.” Yondu held him, the boy’s head tucked safely against his neck. The wet tears soaked into his shirt, but he didn’t care. The boy’s small frame was safe against him, and that was all that mattered. No one dare question him as he led the boy to the large SUV.

 

Yondu wasn’t surprised when the boy showed up at his door that night. It was the first time since he moved into the mansion that Peter has shown interest in being with Yondu, who willingly opened the door to him.

 

Peter didn’t say anything as the older man pulled him into his embrace. Peter cried himself to sleep that night, his trembling body held tightly by the man. Peter never returned to his own room. He moved his belongings in with Yondu the next day.

 

Sitting at his desk, Yondu smiled at the memory. That had been months ago. Things had changed since then. Other things happened. The weak, timid boy had disappeared as Peter gained confidence in his new world.

 

With Yondu’s backing, Peter adapted quickly. He had no qualms questioning Yondu’s choices, knowing that the conversation would never bleed into their personal lives. No matter how heated their arguments got when they entered their room, they were no longer Captain and Second. They were Peter and Yondu. He found his place, right next to Yondu.

 

Yondu removed his glasses, a sudden loneliness filling him. He had a late night and an early morning. He had only gotten five hours asleep. Peter had already been asleep when he curled into bed. He had kissed the boy and pulled him into his arms. When he awoke that morning, Peter was still asleep. He had kissed the boy once more and began his day. That was hours ago, and he hadn't really talked with the boy since. He hated that it had been their life lately. They were both so busy that they hadn't really had time to connect. Yondu missed his boy.

 

He wandered through the mansion. He asked around, but no one knew where the other man was. A commotion from the gym caught his attention. He wasn't surprised to see a crowd around the boxing ring. He had it installed to allow Underlings a way to get their frustration out.

 

Yondu's brain short circuited as he saw the man in the ring. He was covered in a layer of sweat that made his sun-kissed skin shimmer.  Yondu spent hours working vitamin E oil into his taut skin to help heal his scars. Peter had done the same to him, but his older skin didn't bounce back like the other’s .

 

A hard hit to Peter's face made Yondu cringe. The impact would leave behind a bruise on the boy's face. It would join his split lip and black eye. He hated when Peter did this, but he wasn't going to tell him 'no'. Peter was an adult; he could make his own choices. Peter gave him a bloody smile as he spotted him in the crowd. Yondu rolled his eyes. Peter's right hook sent his opponent to the ground. Half the crowd cheered, the other groaned.

 

"Who's next?" Peter yelled triumphantly.

 

"Alright! Alright! That's enough," Yondu ordered. Everyone fell silent as they took first notice of their Captain. The crowd parted as he approached the ring. "Get him cleaned up," Yondu ordered, motioning  to the man KO’d in the ring. Three men quickly drug him from the ring.

 

"You volunteerin' next?" Peter challenged, with a sly grin. "I think I could take ya."

 

Yondu raised an eyebrow at the boy. Peter continued to smirk.

 

"I'll teach you a lesson, boy." Yondu slid into the rink.

 

Someone passed him a pair of worn boxing gloves. They stood on opposite sides of the ring. Peter's new gloves shined in the dim gym lighting. Peter still smirked as he bounced on his toes.

 

"Everyone. OUT!" Peter ordered.

 

There was a scurry as everyone hurried from the room, leaving the large gym empty except for the two men in the ring. They didn't notice. They danced around each other.

 

"What're you thinking boy? Letting that scum beat up on ya."

 

"Well, I woke up this morning, and there were these nice, new gloves waiting from me. Thought I'd put them to good use. Besides, it's a good way to make some extra cash." Peter threw another right hook; but when it connected with Yondu's face, it was a soft push with no pain. Peter hopped away, knowing full well that he had pulled his punch.

 

"You know you don't gotta worry about money."

 

"You worry about it enough for the both of us." Peter pulled another punch that would have knocked out Yondu's teeth. He danced away again. "You know you don't have to keep buying me stuff."

 

Peter threw another slow punch. Yondu caught his wrist, pulling them together. Peter didn't struggle.

 

"I know, but I want my boy to have the nicest things." Yondu pulled the boy into a kiss, not missing the copper taste as his split lip opened. "I've missed you," He whispered, resting their foreheads together.

 

"I've missed you too. The bed's not as comfortable without you in it."

 

"You don't seem to be losing any sleep over it."

 

"I prefer to lose sleep with you," Peter smirked. Yondu moaned as Peter's glove brushed his half hardness. "You wanna get outta here?" Peter offered.

 

Yondu smiled. Their PDA was limited to the occasioned backhand brushing and quick stolen kisses. Yondu learned quickly that Peter liked to keep their private life, private. The closest they ever got toward public exploration was when he fucked the boy in the shower. The large window overlooked their large property. They could see out, but no one would see in. Yondu found it hot. He didn’t mind that Peter kept their relationship private; he liked the idea of having the boy all to himself.

 

"Hell yeah." Yondu threw off the gloves, quickly helping Peter out of his. As soon as his hands were free, he pulled Yondu into another bruising kiss.

 

"Hi." He smiled, the look in his eyes filled with lust, and an underlying softness that Yondu could only identify as adoration. Yondu knew it well.

 

"Hello." Yondu smiled back as he rested his arms around the boy's broad shoulder.

 

The boy had changed, matured. Peter's chest was sculpted, and it was covered in curly, red hairs. With proper access to food and a gym to use in his free time, Peter had bulked up. He was one of the largest men in the clan now, but their relationship hadn't changed. He was still Yondu's boy. He always would be.

 

Peter took his hand, and lead him from the ring. Yondu allowed it, pulling away only long enough to get an ice pack out of the gym freezer. Peter hissed as it touched his heated face. They separated as they exited into the crowd waiting outside the gym. When Peter ordered them out, they only retreated as far as the doors. Now, they parted for the two men, flowing back into the space.

 

Peter adjusted his gloves over his shoulder. They were too nice to risk leaving them for public use. He walked quickly. The basketball shorts he wore did nothing to hide his arousal. He easily navigated the maze of corridors to their room it had taken him some time, but he had learned quickly where everything was. Yondu followed close behind him. Hearing the man's footsteps behind him made Peter’s heart race in excitement.

 

Not long ago, such an action would make his heart race differently. Peter still remembered the fear that made his stomach churn as the footsteps of his client echoed behind him. Yondu had changed everything for him. Now as they hurried to their room, Peter's stomach flip-flopped.

 

“What?” Yondu questioned confused. Peter had stopped just outside their room, staring at Yondu. His green eyes held a look Yondu couldn’t place.

 

“Nothin’.” Peter smiled, pushing into their room.

 

Yondu followed him, smiling as he found himself pinned against the door. Peter’s lips hard against his. Yondu moaned as his arms were pinned beside him. Peter’s fingers interlocking with his.

 

“I hate that you been workin’ so much. Missed you.” Peter finally pulled from their kiss and resting their foreheads together.

 

“I missed you too.”  Yondu pulled from the man's light grip, cupping his face instead. It was already beginning to swell. He ran his thumb along the man's cut lip. “Let’s get you cleaned up, boy.” He took Peter's hand, leading him to the bathroom.

 

Peter sat on the edge of the tub as Yondu cared for him. The man’s hands were gentle as they tended to his split lip and bruises. Peter winced but said nothing. Behind him, water filled the large tub.

 

“Stand up, boy,” Yondu ordered lightly, helping the boy to stand. Yondu's hands were light as he ran them along the waistband of the boy’s shorts. He slipped his hand inside, cupping the other’s arousal. Peter couldn’t stop the sound that passed his lips.

 

“Yondu,” Peter moaned as the man dropped to his knees and took him down. It had taken time, but now Yondu could take Peter all the way down in one go. Yondu smirked as Peter’s hand rested in his thinning hair. It was a possessive thing the younger man had adopted. Yondu didn’t mind.

 

“Close,” Peter warned. He tried not to thrust forward, knowing that this was still new for the older man. Peter had accidentally gagged him before. Yondu hadn’t said anything about it, but Peter had seen the uncertainty in the man's eye. He didn’t like that look.

 

So, Peter focused his strength on staying still. The man's tongue along his slit was the last straw. Peter’s hips bucked forward, and he was coming. Yondu stayed connected to him, waiting until Peter had softened before pulling off.

 

Peter's hand on his shoulders pulled him up. Yondu’s knees protested, but Peter’s strong arms supported him. He captured the man's lips. Some things that had once repulsed him now aroused him on as he tasted himself on the other’s tongue.

 

“Fuck!” Peter swore as they pulled apart.

 

Yondu smiled, content to see the look on the boy’s face.

 

“Bath time,” Yondu ordered lightly. He quickly maneuvered Peter into the bathtub, more than happy to drink up the sight of the naked man. Yondu stripped slowly, enjoying Peter's sound of contentment as he sank into the warm water.

 

“You gonna join me? Or just stare at me all night?” Peter smirked. He opened one eye to peek at the man.

 

“Do you want me to join ya?” Yondu questioned. People had taken enough from him; Yondu wasn’t going to be one of those people. Peter seemed to understand.

 

“The water’s getting’ cold. Get your butt in!” Peter ordered with a smirk.

 

Yondu smiled back, quickly climbing in behind Peter. The boy waited until Yondu was settled before plastering himself against the older man’s chest. Yondu smiled as Peter sighed in contentment. His head resting back on his shoulder.

 

Yondu ran his hand along the boy’s sculpted chest and stomach. He peppered kisses along his shoulders and neck. He nipped at the shell of the man's ear. He moved down, quickly sucking a hickey on the boy’s neck. Normally, Yondu kept the boy covered in marks, but they hadn't been together for so long that all Yondu's marks on the boy had yellowed and healed.

 

“I’ve missed this… Missed you.” Peter tilted his head away, allowing Yondu more access. He never liked bruises; but when Yondu left them, he didn’t mind.

 

 They stayed in the bath until the water cooled. Yondu took the time to scrub the man, and lather the shampoo into his curls. Yondu kissed him slow and passionately.

 

“You ready to get out?” Yondu smirked. As did Peter.

 

Yondu patted the boy dry using one of the puffy towels. They invested in new ones once the boy had bulked up so that they would actually fit around Peter’s broad shoulders. Peter chased after the man’s lips as he worked. Yondu laughed more than willing to comply with the boy’s wishes.

 

“Come on!” Peter, who had grown hard again, took the man’s hand.

 

 Yondu went willingly. Peter easily pulled Yondu over him  as he lay on the bed. The older man settled between his knees. They kissed for several minutes, relearning the taste of one another. Peter had been patient. He knew the stress the man was under; and although he missed him, Peter wasn’t his priority. He understood; but now that he had him, he wasn’t giving up.

 

“Here.” Peter quickly passed the man the bottle of lube. He had kept it under his pillow. Just a little wishful thinking.

 

“You been planning this?” Yondu questioned with a smile.

 

In response, Peter kissed him. Yondu took that as a ‘yes’. He understood. He was also eager.

 

“I love you.” Yondu kissed the boy again.

 

 The first time he had said those words, they had slipped out over dinner. It had been their first ‘date’. Yondu had insisted on treating the boy right, which meant movies dinners and garden walks. Peter had been hesitant, but they quickly became his favorite moments.

 

When Yondu said the words for the first time, Peter had almost choked on his pasta. He wanted to but couldn’t muster up the ability to get the words out. Yondu didn’t seem to mind. Yondu would say the words each time he went to work, before bed, and basically anytime he separated from the boy. He knew it would take time for the boy to understand that he meant it, so he repeated them hoping to convince him. Eventually, it worked.

 

“I love you too. Now please fuck me!” Peter had grown impatient. He wanted Yondu inside him.

 

 Yondu smirked and set to work. Yondu slathered his fingers quickly. He took the boy’s half hardness in his mouth, hoping to distract him from the stretch. More than once, Peter had told him he used too much lube, but Yondu wasn’t going to tempt it. He would never risk hurting his boy. Ever.

 

Peter took two fingers easily. He moaned on the bed, enjoying the feeling. Yondu met some resistance as he added a third finger. He went slowly, sucking harder on the member in his mouth. Peter was fully hard now.

 

“Please!” Peter begged.

 

“Not yet.” Yondu popped off him with a smirk. “Gotta get you stretched.”

 

“I can take it. You know that.” Peter rolled his eyes. Sometimes when Peter was impatient, he forgot about his own preparation. More than once, Peter had prepped himself in a hurry and ended up red and puffy. Yondu was not happy.

 

“Hey! None of that,” Yondu warned. He added another finger. Below him, Peter moaned as Yondu found his prostate. Peter was so close again, with Yondu close behind him.

 

“Please!” Peter squirmed on the bed.

 

“I got ya, boy.” Yondu smiled.

 

He shifted, adjusting. Sliding into the boy was like coming home. No one had ever felt like that before, and Yondu doubted anyone ever would. Not that he was going to find out. He planned on being with the boy forever. Peter’s legs wrapped around his hips, drawing him forward. He must have been going too slow for the other. Yondu smirked, and leaned over to kiss the other.

 

“I’ve missed this. Missed you so much.” Peter pulled him into another kiss.

 

The man fit different inside him without a condom. Peter had been hesitant, but they had both gotten tested and were clean. Yondu never pushed him into it. The first time had happened by accident; and after that, Peter was unwilling to give up the feeling.

 

“Missed you so much!” Yondu kissed him as he thrust forward. He set up a steady pace, fucking the boy deep and slow.

 

Below him, Peter rocked in time with the man. Being with Yondu was different than anything he had felt before. He never wanted it to end, but the hand around his cock caught his attention. Yondu stroked slowly, each thrust hitting that spot inside him. Peter was so close.

 

“Close,” Peter warned.

 

“Me too.” Yondu kissed him again.

 

Two more shaky thrusts, and Yondu was coming, his body flush against the other.

 

Peter felt the warmth of the man inside him. It was enough for him. His body tightened, and he was coming. He spilled in the small space between their bodies.

 

Yondu collapsed onto the chest of the boy, knowing Peter could easily take his weight. Peter’s arms wrapped around him, holding him close. He shifted the older man just enough that he could capture his lips. Their kisses were lazy slow, both tired as they lay together.

 

“I think we might need another bath.” Peter finally spoke up.

 

Yondu’s body shook with laughter.

 

“Alright,” he stood on wobbly legs, and pulling the boy after him. “You get in. I’ll call the kitchen and have them bring up some food.”

 

“God, I love you!” Peter kissed the man with a smile on his face.

 

Yondu kissed him back. For a long moment, he just held the boy.

 

Peter drank in the feeling. It had taken years, but he finally found a home in the man’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 7/13/17: Work is officially edited and uploaded


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